A Simple Plan
by CaptainS10
Summary: AU. Peter's parents are still alive and are scientists working for Hydra. When Hydra gets ahold of one of the Avengers and thwarts their desperate attempts to get her back, Tony does the only thing he can do. He takes matters into his own hands and decides to take one of their own back: Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! So this idea is something I've been toying around with for a while and I finally think I have a decent enough version of it to post. I don't want to ramble too much, because I'm hoping to let the story do the explaining, but this is an AU. As the summary says, Peter's parents are still alive and are scientists working for Hydra, and all the Avengers have met in some way although events may have played out slightly differently due to some character variations from that. Anyway, that's all I want to clarify for now. I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think! The next chapter is already written, so just let me know if you want it and I'll update soon!**

_Thump_. _Thump_. _Thump_.

The sound of his own head pounding between his ears was the first thing he heard when he woke up.

Peter let out a low groan, unable to help himself. He attempted to raise a hand to his head, to rub his temple, but found that he couldn't. He also found that he was tied up, to a chair, by the feel of it, his arms and legs tied to the corresponding parts of the seat underneath of him. What the hell was happening?

He tried to recall how he'd ended up here. He'd been on his way home from school, had decided to get a sandwich and go patrolling, knowing his parents were away on business and wouldn't be around to notice, when he'd run into a man on the street… He remembered brief bits of conversation, but that was about it.

He wanted it not to matter that he didn't remember, but it did, because it meant he had no clues as to where he was, what happened, who had him, and why. What would anyone want with him? Sure, they were well off enough, but they weren't rich or well known, so ransom was out of the question. He didn't really have any enemies - he was a teenager, still in high school, for God's sake - and he didn't see how the scientific research his parents did would piss anyone off. And he was nearly certain no one could have figured out his secret identity. Who would have? No one paid very close attention to him at all. He only had one close friend, and his two parents, and he doubted this would have been the result of either if them had figured it out.

"Oh, you're awake. That was… quicker than expected."

The voice was vaguely familiar, but _holy shit _did it make his head thump to hear someone talk. Sensory overload was a danger for him on a good day, but with this migraine, and the fact he suddenly realized he was blind, it was dangerously close already.

He groaned again, unable to help it, but when he went to open his mouth enough to say something, he suddenly realized he couldn't. He was gagged, too.

What the _hell_ was going on?

"Alright, hold on now. I'll take it out, but if you start screaming on me I will definitely put it back."

Peter didn't make any effort to hide his flinch when he spoke again; he couldn't stop himself from recoiling if he wanted to. Oh, the voice was enough to make his head feel like it was going to explode. The sound of shoes on the hardwood floor was more bearable, even if it still felt like knives in his ears. If he had been in a state to he might have scoffed. Like he could scream in this state.

He could feel the man's body heat when he got close, and the hand that hooked the gag and pulled it out was surprisingly easy about it. And when the voice came again, it was closer, right above him, but much lower, as if the man had noticed his flinch. "Better?" Gruff, but soft, barely above a whisper.

Peter exhaled a little breath, trying to keep the urge to vomit under control. As gentle as he was, the hand that had brushed his face had almost hurt, reminding him he was dangerously close to sensory overload in an already dangerous situation.

When he was sure he wasn't going to upchuck all over whoever his captor was, he managed a low murmur. "Yeah." The word was hard to get out, and swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper. "I can't…"

"See? Yeah, that's the point in the blindfold, kid." He heard some shuffling, and then something cold and hard was being pressed against his mouth. "Here. Drink."

Peter turned his head away, ignoring the throbbing in it and the wave of nausea the motion caused. "I'm… I'm good."

A quiet scoff came from somewhere above him, and despite his effort to turn away, the glass simply followed him. "Don't be an idiot, kid. You're going to be here a while and if I wanted to poison you then half of this charade wouldn't be necessary. _Drink_."

Sighing slightly, Peter relented, drinking the liquid as the mystery man poured it into his mouth. It was good, and he felt some of his strength returning as it flowed into him. If he could just shake this headache and this overwhelming feeling of general weakness, maybe he could break whatever these bonds were on him. Of course he'd have to recover enough that he could handle the movement without pain or risk of sensory overload before he could even test them. Hopefully that wouldn't be too long.

When it was gone, the glass was pulled away, and Peter licked his lips. "Thanks," he said quietly, figuring being rude wasn't going to do him any favors. And it did feel better, even if he didn't want to admit it aloud.

He heard a heavy sigh, and the footsteps retreated a few steps, although his tingling senses told him the man was still watching him. "Sure." There was a pause, and Peter thought he wasn't going to say anything else, so he decided to speak up again.

"I...uh, what's going on?" Wait, was that really the question he wanted to ask? The what was pretty obvious at this point. The more prudent questions… "I mean, why am I here? What do you want from me? Cause, uh, I mean, we don't have much money, and I-"

A soft, exasperated chuckle cut him off. "I don't want any money, kid. Lord knows I have enough of that."

"Then what…?" He was so confused, and the pounding in his head wasn't helping.

"I…" Another sigh. "Look, like I said, I don't want your money, and the most I want from you personally is to just behave yourself and preferably keep the screaming to a minimum. Not that there's anyone to hear but me, but I assume your head hurts bad enough already and it would suck for you if I had to gag you again." A pause, and Peter could guess he was thinking that he didn't really want him to make his head hurt as well. "Sorry about your head, by the way. I don't think you're concussed, especially since you woke up on your own so soon, but it still can't feel good."

"I…" What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, it's fine. No big deal. I get abducted like this everyday?' No, that definitely wasn't right. Bad enough he couldn't even remember exactly why his head hurt. Speaking of… "Uh, what did you do to me, exactly?"

"You don't remember?" He seemed surprised.

"Oh, uh, bits and pieces." He thought about telling him he remembered what he looked like, so the blindfold wasn't really necessary, but he doubted it would help his cause.

"Oh. Well. A combination of sedatives and a nasty bump," the man admitted. "But it'll clear out eventually. You'll be fine."

They lapsed into silence again for a moment. It was almost awkward. Peter couldn't help but wonder if this guy had any idea what he was doing. He cleared his throat after a few minutes, trying again. "So… I'm just supposed to… sit here? For how long?"

"For however long it takes."

"How long what takes?"

"Don't worry your curly little head about it. Just behave yourself and we won't have any issues." He could hear him standing, starting to walk away again.

He searched his aching head for something, anything to keep him there, to find out more information, but he couldn't think of anything before he heard the door open and close behind the man.

He was gone. Peter was alone.

If only he had the strength to do anything about it.

But he didn't. And like magic, the man had mentioned sedatives, and now that he was alone and quiet for more than a second, it was like he could feel them, and suddenly he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He simply let his head fall back and fell back into an unrestful sleep, unable and unwilling to fight it for long. Almost before he knew it, he was unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is just the same as the last with a bit more background and from the opposite point of view. Hopefully this will throw some light on the situation for you guys. Next chapter will be different, I promise. Anyway, enjoy! :) **

Tony stared at the unconscious kid.

This wasn't his best idea ever. Logically, he knew that. Abducting a teenage kid was wrong on so many levels and yet… yet he knew his information was correct, knew what was happening to Wanda, what the kid's parents were involved in, and he couldn't quite convince himself that it was _that_ wrong.

He was angry, he knew, and that in itself was enough to make him not think straight. Hydra had struck right where it would hurt the most this time - from the inside, luring the youngest Avenger right back into their arms. She'd been unsuspecting and with her powers being so new… she had no hope of defending herself. The video footage they'd received from Hydra was enough to confirm that without question.

They'd tried to get her back the easy way. Well, maybe he shouldn't call it the easy way, but they'd tried to go in and get her themselves, but of course Hydra was prepared for that. It had been a disaster. Many of them had been hurt, and they hadn't even actually located Wanda. It seemed as though they'd been set up, but it also seemed as though the Hydra agents that had her had been there, had known they were coming and cleared out. Like they'd been close.

Knowing how close they were… He gritted his teeth at the thought. He wasn't taking it as hard as some as the others, at least visibly. It was still a painful thought - one that filled him with such cold fury, the kind that he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in such a long time. But he wasn't dumb. He and Steve were the faces, the leaders. One of them had to do something, and Steve's hands off approach wasn't doing them any favors by refusing to get their hands dirty.

Tony had never been opposed to getting his hands dirty.

Armed with the information he had from the videos and what they'd seen inside, it had been easy to track down several of the scientists, their names and identities. He wasn't surprised to find that there wasn't much to see with most of them.

He had been surprised to see the Parkers, though. They were an anomaly within Hydra's base. No criminal records, no even hint of any kind of legal trouble, no apparent reasons or connections why they were involved. It was puzzling, but it was also about perfect.

If you didn't plan to become scientists working for an evil group, you didn't plan far enough into the future to worry about what could happen if you had a kid. Thus, they were the only ones deep inside that he found that did.

It was a simple thing. A kid for a kid. Yes, he felt guilty about it, on a level, especially because there was absolutely no evidence the kid even had any idea of what his parents were doing. But he didn't intend to hurt him. He'd just keep him nice and contained, maybe make a video himself to send back to them next time. And when they were ready to talk, then they could make the switch, and he'd let him go. There was no reason for him not to.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

He had the kid in his lab, which was probably one of the most secure places in the building. It wasn't that there wasn't anywhere else to put him, exactly - there was a cell block, and there were rooms he could be sure were secure, but he didn't feel right just locking him in a cubby by himself, even if it meant him having more freedom of movement. He definitely didn't want him to see too much - not because of risk of the kid finding out his identity, per se; that cat would be out of the bag eventually one way or another - and he just felt more comfortable being able to watch him himself. And he'd have a long way down to go from his workshop in the Tower if he thought he'd actually be able to escape.

When he started to wake, Tony was sitting at his desk a few feet away, his feet kicked up as he went through information on one of his tablets. He sensed the sudden shift in the air almost before he noticed the way the kid's head had come up, and the low groan that he emitted.

He tried to ignore the pang of guilt at that. Okay, so capturing the kid was not exactly as smooth and painless as he'd hoped, and he might have had to hit him over the head with his gauntlet to knock him out. His head probably hurt pretty bad, between that and the sedatives he'd put in his system.

Speaking of which… he'd given the kid sedatives. How was he awake already?

It didn't matter, because he clearly was. He groaned again, and Tony was on his feet in an instant, the words leaving his mouth almost before he'd thought about them. "Oh, you're awake. That was… quicker than expected." He stiffened, his mouth opening and closing like he was going to say something but realized he couldn't. He had a quick internal debate, then set his tablet down as he started towards him. "Alright, hold on now. I'll take it out, but if you start screaming on me I will definitely put it back," he warned.

Carefully, he unhooked the gag from his lip and let it drop around his neck, pretending not to notice the way the kid flinched when his finger brushed his face. He did, however, notice the way he flinched when he spoke, and not wanting to hurt the boy anymore on purpose than he had to, he consciously lowered his voice when he spoke again. "Better?"

He seemed to take a moment to steady himself before he answered. "Yeah." His voice was weak and croaky. Tony frowned, glancing back at his desk for something immediate he could give him and noticing what was left of the health drink Pepper constantly made him drink. The kid continued, oblivious to Tony's focus being behind him. "I can't-"

"See?" Tony finished. "Yeah, that's the point in the blindfold, kid," he muttered, pacing back a few steps to grab it and returning to him. It was still in the mixing cup, but he just shrugged, giving it a few swirls to make sure it hadn't separated and holding it to the kid's mouth. "Here. Drink."

To his surprise, he tried to turn his head away. "I'm...uh, I'm good," he murmured, voice still crackly.

He had to admire the reaction, even if he couldn't stop himself from scoffing at it as he followed him with the glass. "Don't be an idiot, kid. You're going to be here a while and if I wanted to poison you then half of this charade wouldn't be necessary. _Drink_." He put more emphasis on it the second time, making it clear he would either drink it willingly or he would make him. Admirable self-preservation instinct or no, he wasn't about to let him get sick from it.

He seemed to get the message, and opened his mouth with a slight sigh that made Tony's gut do a little somersault. Was that guilt? Already? No. He pushed it down. He could feel guilty all he wanted to when this was over. He started now and this whole thing would be a disaster.

When the last of it was gone, he took the glass away and walked back over to his desk, setting it back down by his cup. He wasn't expecting to hear the kid mutter, "Thanks," so quietly he almost wasn't sure, were it not for the word itself, that he was supposed to hear it. He blinked, leaning against the front of his desk this time and studying him. "Sure," he blurted in response before he could really think of a more appropriate answer - or decide if he should have answered at all, really.

He was honestly surprised that he was handling this so well. Tony had been abducted a few times himself, and...well. The feeling wasn't exactly a good one, and the experience was never a cakewalk. In the back of his mind, he knew this likely wouldn't go as smoothly as he wanted it to, either, but he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. The Avengers were a family, albeit a dysfunctional one. But he _would_ get Wanda back, even if it meant stooping to a level they wouldn't expect him to to do it.

The boy's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "I...uh, what's going on?" He stopped, seemingly realizing how dumb of a question that was, then tried again. "I mean, why am I here? What do you want from me? Cause, uh, I mean, we don't have much money, and I-"

Tony couldn't help the soft huff of laughter that escaped him at that. If the kid had any idea who he was talking to… "I don't want any money, kid. Lord knows I have enough of that."

That seemed to throw him for a loop. "Then what…?"

"I…" He studied the boy's confused face, sighing again. "Look, like I said, I don't want your money," he repeated, slowly, knowing he was probably having trouble processing through the pain in his head. He ignored that pang again and continued, "And the most I want from you personally is to just behave yourself and preferably keep the screaming to a minimum. Not that there's anyone to hear but me, but I assume your head hurts bad enough already and it would suck for you if I had to gag you again." It was semi-true; the others were around, and although no one was on this floor, he wasn't sure if it he started screaming that one of those enhanced ones on the floors below him might not hear. It didn't much matter, although admittedly, Tony didn't really want to hear it, or have to deal with the ensuing arguments until he was ready.

He shook the thoughts away, pausing for a moment. "Sorry about your head, by the way," he added, quieter. He didn't normally apologize, but it was the least he could do in this scenario. "I don't think you're concussed-" he'd already scanned him a few times with Friday just to be sure, "-especially since you woke up on your own so soon, but it still can't feel good."

"I…" he stopped, his brows drawing together. "Uh, what did you do to me, exactly?"

Tony frowned. "You don't remember?" That… probably wasn't a good sign. Maybe he'd hit him a bit harder than intended. He'd have Friday scan him again.

"Oh. Uh, bits and pieces," he mumbled.

"Oh." Not the most articulate response, but had to admit he'd expected the kid would at least remember most of their encounter. Maybe it was better he didn't. "Well. A combination of sedatives and a nasty bump," he admitted, after studying him another moment. "But it'll clear out eventually. You'll be fine." _I think_. He had no reason to believe he wouldn't be, but he'd definitely be getting him checked over again...

Apparently the kid couldn't take the silence for long, because he blurted out more questions after a few moments of it. "So… I'm just supposed to… sit here? For how long?"

He fought back another sigh. "For however long it takes."

"How long what takes?" he pressed.

"Don't worry your curly little head about it. Just behave yourself and we won't have any issues." His watch on his wrist made a silent vibration, and Tony bit back a groan as he pushed off his desk and straightened. Whatever he was being summoned for, he didn't like it already. He definitely didn't like the idea of letting the kid out of his sight, but Friday would alert him if he tried anything for the short time he would be gone.

He started towards the door, pausing just long enough to spare a backwards glance at the kid. Should he say something before he left? Nah. Maybe then he wouldn't even realize he was gone until he was on his way back, which would definitely be preferable. Besides, he'd already told him to sit still and behave. What else was there to say?

He slipped out the door silently, leaving the teen alone in the lab behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony rode in the elevator to the floor he'd been summoned to - his watch, which doubled as a communication device, had given him the number he needed - and stepped out when it stopped, crossing his arms. "Well?"

Steve was sitting at the island in his kitchen, tracing his finger in the moisture on his cup. "The Medbay is a bit crowded, but everyone is holding up fine. Those who can are scouting or looking for any more information they can possibly get that might hint to her whereabouts."

"Any luck?"

"Not that they've told me."

It was quiet for a moment as Tony observed him, thinking. He could see the way Cap had settled most of his weight on one side of his body and knew that most of his injuries hadn't healed yet. Tony himself had gotten out the most unscathed, he knew, due to his suit taking most of the damage for him. Which was probably why he had been in decent enough shape to apprehend the kid by himself.

He stifled a sigh, pouring himself a cup of coffee and settling on the stool across from Steve. He debated internally about telling him what he'd done. They'd find out eventually, he knew - they'd have to, or there was no point - but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to tell him yet.

Unfortunately for him, his decision was made for him when Steve spoke. He hadn't thought about the fact that Steve had known him long enough to read the indecision on his face, but he couldn't pretend to be surprised or ignorant when he confronted him on it. "What's the matter, Stark?"

Tony hesitated, taking a drink of his coffee and giving him a pointed look to get out of answering immediately. "Aside from the obvious?"

"If there's something you're not telling me besides the obvious, then yes. Aside from that." Steve returned his look.

He let out a low rumble, looking down and swirling his coffee cup gently. "I… did something," he started, eyes firmly on his coffee. "And before you ask, yes, I thought it through, and I think I have a damn good plan if I do say so myself."

"But?" There was obviously a but, or he wouldn't be having such a hard time telling him.

"But," Tony continued, glancing up at him briefly before fixating back on his coffee. "You're not going to like it." He took another drink of his coffee and risked a look up at him again, meeting his eyes.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then the Captain groaned a little, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling. "Tony, what did you do?"

Tony pressed his lips together. "I'll tell you, but first, tell me this. What would you do to get Wanda back?"

"Tony…"

"Cap." His voice was low and _almost_ pleading. They stared at each other again, the silence long and tense. He knew that they both knew exactly what was happening to Wanda right now, and that they both felt some overwhelming amount of responsibility not just for her but for all of the team. It was like shared parenting, almost. Lord knew they bickered the same way Tony and Pepper did sometimes. But that pressure and that cooperation, at the same time, was the reason the team was still together, and the reason Tony knew he didn't have to reiterate what was at stake for him.

Cap let out a strained breath. "Anything," he relented at last.

"Good. Me too." He stood up. "If we're on the same page...I should show you something."

Begrudgingly, Steve stood up to follow him. "Why do I have a feeling that whatever this is, I'm going to regret agreeing to it?"

Maybe because Tony already half-regretted doing it, but he couldn't tell him that. Instead he stepped silently into the elevator, taking them back to the floor the kid was on.

When the elevator stopped, he pressed the button to halt the doors, looking back at a wary Steve. "You trust me, don't you?"

"I don't know why I do, sometimes, but yes." Steve let out a heavy sigh. "What did you do, Stark?"

"Exactly what I told you. I did some research into the Hydra agents we saw in the video and gathered all the information I could."

"And that information led you to…"

"See for yourself." Tony released the button, letting the doors open and gesturing for him to step out first.

He did, stepping out slowly, and Tony followed a minute after. Steve slowly came to a stop in front of the plexiglass between the elevator and the workshop entrance, and he noticed the way his shoulders stiffened almost before he groaned. "Tony-"

"I can explain," he promised, before the other man could get too far and start into whatever tangent he had planned.

"Do." The word was terse, curt, but he didn't take offense, moving up to stand beside him and letting his gaze linger on the tied-up kid that he could see in the back of the workshop.

"His parents are scientists," Tony told him, knowing putting it out plainly and quickly was the best way to do it. "And they were both in both videos Hydra sent, so yes, I know for a fact they're directly involved." When Steve didn't say anything immediately, he continued, "Look, I know what you're thinking, but it's a simple and effective plan. A kid for a kid. We trade him for Wanda, no harm done, easy resolution. We'll kick Hydra's ass after, obviously, but-"

"Simple?" Cap interrupted, turning to him with a surprising amount of anger written in his sculpted features. "Tony, you've got to be kidding me. There's nothing simple about this. There's so many problems with this plan, I don't even know where to start. What if you got the wrong kid? What if his parents are unwilling victims of Hydra? What if we're doing the same thing now that they threatened to? What if Hydra refuses the trade? What do we even do with him? How do we keep him and this whole thing contained if it goes awry? What if," he continued, his voice low and tense, "Hydra calls your bluff? What if they want you to hurt him the same way they're hurting Wanda to prove that you're serious? Can you do that? Would you? Because really, Tony, that makes us no better than the bad guys."

Tony exhaled a sharp breath. He'd expected this, all of it; the anger and the torrent of questions. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered every one of them himself. "Listen to me, Steve. You think I haven't thought of all of that? No, believe me, I have. And no, I don't want to hurt the kid, and no, I can't prove his parents aren't innocent victims. But I can't prove they are, either, and at the worst case scenario, if they turn against Hydra for it, then they still won't have a choice but to accept it. This is the best plan of action we have. We have nothing else, and you know it as well as I do."

"And what if Hydra doesn't give a shit what his parents say?" Cap shot back. "What if they tell you that you can do whatever you want to him and it doesn't matter? Even if they don't call your bluff, they could flat out refuse, and then we just have a traumatized kid that we have no idea what to do with."

Tony gritted his teeth. "If it comes to that, we'll figure it out. But you don't have a better plan, and he's already here." He stopped, and when the Captain didn't say anything, he added, quieter, "It's a way to get some kind of communication, Cap. At least for a start. It'll buy us some time and some more information, at least, and like you said, a traumatized kid at the worst. It's more than we have right now."

Cap let out a long breath, looking down. Tony knew it went against every instinct the man had, could feel it in the set of his shoulders, the tension between them, but he nodded slowly. "I don't like it, but it's something. And just letting him go at this point isn't really a feasible option, so…"

Tony let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "No. It's really not."

There was silence between them for a long moment - not exactly comfortable, but an understanding, at least. Then Cap spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "How old is he?" He glanced over to see the soldier staring at the boy with pitying eyes through the glass. "He just looks so… small."

"He's fifteen."

"Jesus Christ, Tony." Cap took a step back, running his hands through his hair. "That's… He's a _baby_. He's even younger than she is."

"I know. I do." It was all he could say. He looked down.

"You better be sure about this, Tony." He stopped, giving him a look, then looking back at the kid. "Can I…" He faltered, waving a hand at the glass, but Tony knew what he was trying to ask.

"I don't think you should do that yet. He woke up once, but he's still pretty tired and disoriented. I wouldn't be surprised if he's out again by now." He sighed. "I don't think we should tell the rest of the team yet, for that matter. Not until it's necessary."

Cap took a steadying breath. "Not that there's anyone here to tell in any shape to do anything about it, at the moment. But we can wait. At least until we hear something else from Hydra or figure out how to get a message to them ourselves." He paused, throwing a glance at Tony. "But I will definitely be back to see him. Are you just going to keep him tied up like that?"

"Of course." He tried not to roll his eyes, knowing the Captain meant well. "And that was the intent, at least for the first little while. Obviously it's not a long term solution, but aside from throwing him in a room or a cell, neither of which is a very conducive environment for what we need, it's all we have for right now."

"Do you have something in mind?" Steve glanced at him again.

"Not quite yet, but I'm working on it. I'll let you know. I could definitely use backup when I have to let him out for any amount of time." He studied the kid himself, again, pushing down the pang again when he watched him tug at his bonds, likely unconsciously, if the loll of his head was any indication of his state.

Steve nodded once. "I'll come back tonight. Then we'll talk, and we'll see what we can do about… the state of things."

Tony just nodded, watching him as he stepped back into the elevator and left without another word. It was probably for the best. He knew he was irritated - and worried - and rightly so, but at least he hadn't tried to make it a fight. If he couldn't count on Steve to have his back, then this would have been a recipe for disaster for sure. He was just glad that he didn't have to deal with that.

It was time enough he got back to the kid anyway. He didn't want to leave him there alone for very long if he could help it - as much because he felt guilty about the situation as because he wanted to keep an eye on him. He was handling the whole thing too well, and it made him decidedly nervous. Less about the kid succeeding in doing anything and more about having to deal with the repercussions of him trying to. He couldn't just let it go if he did, but he didn't know what to do about it, either. Hopefully it just wasn't an issue.

He sighed, leaning against the glass wall. "Friday, give me a status update," he instructed, studying the boy.

"He's unconscious, but it's likely that's the sedatives working their way out of his system. He seems to be fine, boss. He has a few minor bruises and scrapes but otherwise, he's in perfect condition."

Tony nodded slowly, letting some of the tension release from his shoulders when he was sure the kid was okay. "Alright. I'm going back in. Keep me updated on his status, but keep it through the earpiece. The longer he's out, the better." If he was unconscious, then Tony could work in peace, and he also didn't have to worry about him trying anything stupid as long as he was dead to the world.

This thought in mind, he entered the workshop quietly and went to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I just wanted to say thank you all again for all the support I've been getting on here! You all make me want to write all the more 3 Also, just wanted to add for any of my Internship people, that story will be getting updated on Saturday because I'm working on a massive update to celebrate 250+ followers and it's not quite ready today. So, look for that later! Today this and Captive Audience are being updated. **

**Anyway, big thank again, and please continue to follow, favorite, and review! Love you all 3000. Enjoy the story!**

After a few hours, Peter finally started to come around again.

The first thing he noticed was how much better he felt. Thank God for his body's crazy healing power and that advanced metabolism of his. Whatever drugs had been in his system and whatever injuries he'd sustained - both from being knocked out and from patrolling like crazy the past few days - were gone now, and he felt… good. Strangely, better than he had in days.

The second thing was the absence of another one of his senses.

It was hard to pinpoint, at first, but he suddenly realized he couldn't hear anything. He also still couldn't see, but at least the gag hadn't been put back.

He shifted just slightly and had to stifle a gasp. _Shit_. Some sensory deprivation of course increased the sensitivity of the ones he did have access to, and right now that was mainly touch. He could feel every inch of the chair he was tied to, the roughness of the fabric covering it, even the sudden scratchiness of his clothes, and it was all too much.

He forced himself to take deep breaths. He couldn't freak out, not here, not like this. There wasn't anything he could do to make it stop, so the best thing for it was to hold still and try to focus on something, anything else.

Was he alone? He had no way of telling, with no sight or hearing. Why was he suddenly not allowed to hear? Had he done something? He had no recollection of doing anything. He'd just been asleep… right?

His Spidey sense tingled. Something was coming, but he couldn't bring himself to move, not when he was barely holding his breathing even as it was.

He sensed someone right above him a minute before the hand touched his back. It was light, but he still jumped and flinched involuntarily. A second later, it lifted, and he felt the release of whatever was stopping him from hearing was removed. Immediately he slumped forward, taking a few steadying breaths. For a moment, the input of sound, even as quiet as the room around him was, was excruciating; but then he readjusted, and it became bearable again. Still an edge, from being blindfolded, but definitely better.

He wasn't quite recovered enough to speak yet, but the voice didn't seem to notice or care. "Kid? You alright? You were hyperventilating." The man's voice was soft again, and he tried and failed to not flinch as a hand touched his shoulder again.

"I'm-" Peter faltered. "I'm fine." That was all he had. He couldn't explain to him that he'd almost had a panic attack or that he'd been paralyzed by the sensory overload. Normal kids didn't do either of those things. Well, maybe not the sensory overload, although he supposed a panic attack was probably not unwarranted in this situation, even if the situation itself wasn't why he'd started freaking out.

"Hmm." The man didn't sound convinced, and Peter was suddenly glad for the blindfold and the restraints. It made the signs of a panic attack much less obvious, since he couldn't see his eyes or the way he was shaking. Or at least he _hoped_ the man didn't notice the way he was shaking.

The man in question was, of course, Tony. And to say he wasn't convinced would be an understatement.

He'd put earmuffs on the kid when he'd come back in so that he could work without waking him up. He didn't realize it would cause him to nearly have a panic attack, which, if the way he could feel the kid shaking under his hand was any indication, was exactly what had happened. As soon as Friday had alerted him that he was waking up, he'd rushed over to remove them, but apparently he hadn't been quick enough.

The kid was still breathing hard, and Tony knelt in front of him, squeezing his shoulders. He wasn't good with comfort, or kids, so he wasn't entirely sure the best way to proceed - never mind the fact that the kid was technically his _hostage_ and that took the whole scenario to a different level of weird. Still, he'd had panic attacks before, had dealt with them before, and he couldn't in good conscience _not_ try to help him.

"Hey, talk to me, kid. Just breathe. In and out." He could see his eyes fluttering under the blindfold, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to regulate his breathing. "Good. That's it."

When he started to feel like he was getting enough oxygen again and his panic faded, Peter opened his eyes under the blindfold again and straightened a little. "I… thanks," he murmured, embarrassed. Way to make them think he was weak. "You didn't have to-..."

"I'm the one who sent you into it, so I think I did," Tony told him firmly. He squeezed his shoulder. "Sorry, kid. I was just trying to let you sleep without having to worry about waking you up while I was working. It wasn't meant to be a punishment or anything."

Peter nodded slowly. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he blurted, unable to stop the question before it escaped.

He could hear it as he stood up, pulling away slowly and starting to walk away. "I told you, kid. This really doesn't have anything to do with you. It's nothing personal, and there's no reason to make it such." There was a pause, and he heard a slight scraping sound, like a chair being pulled out. "Why? Would you rather I be a jackass? Because I'm quite famous for it in some circles."

The question had hit a bit harder than he'd realized it would, although in retrospect he should have known the kid would start asking questions like that eventually. He didn't like the fact that the kid was clearly afraid of him, or at least of the situation, even if it was only to be expected. He'd done a pretty good job of hiding it so far, and had reacted way better than Tony had feared, for sure. A mild panic attack and some questions were probably the best case scenario, to be honest.

Still, he pulled back almost involuntarily when the kid asked, and, suddenly realizing he probably wasn't comfortable with the close contact, paced back over to his chair by what he was working on and sat down, hoping the distance would provide them both a modem of comfort. He answered the best he could - the only way he could without getting too deep into the situation - and was surprised when the boy cracked a small smile at his attempt at levity.

"No, I guess I wouldn't, but… it would make more sense," he answered with the best shrug his bonds would allow.

"A lot of things I do don't make sense to the rest of the world at first," Tony told him. "But it'll all come out eventually."

It was quiet for a few minutes. Tony studied him, waiting for the next question, but when it didn't come immediately, he picked up his tablet and went back to work.

Peter was simply trying to digest this information and decide what, if anything, he should ask next. Despite his captor's attempt at humor and the fact he hadn't done anything to him yet, really, he knew that it probably wouldn't last forever, and if he pushed too hard, he could make him mad, or at the very least irritated enough he wouldn't be so kind anymore. Still, he was feeling better, and he had determined by now the bonds keeping him in the chair were just rope, so they would be pretty easy for him to break. He knew if he was going to make a move, he'd have to do it soon, before the resurgence of strength was gone and he was weakened by his own metabolism turning against him. But he also knew he'd only have one shot, and he'd have to be careful how he went about it. And any kind of information he could get as to what this guy knew and what was going on was something he could potentially use in his favor, so he decided pressing on was his best bet. He steadied himself, taking a breath before asking the next, most prudent question he could think of.

"Why me?"

Tony startled slightly, glancing back at the kid with his brows drawn together. "What?" That wasn't what he'd expected to hear as the next question, admittedly.

"You said it's not personal," the kid said, repeating his words back to him. "So… why me, then? I mean, there has to be some reason you came after me and not just some other random kid on the street." He paused, tilting his head at him. "Or did you actually just pick me off the street? Do you even know my name?"

"Of course I know your name, kid." Tony couldn't help but scoff, even as he considered the weight of the question, and the best way to answer it. "It's just… it's complicated, alright? Let's just say I picked you for a connection you have. Probably unwittingly, I hate to say, but you're not the one that the knowledge matters to, so…" He shrugged, forgetting that the kid couldn't see him. "I know it sucks, but I can't really tell you much else right now. Like I said, everything will come out in time." Most of it would, at least. He didn't want to freak him out by telling him the truth - that his parents were basically evil scientists, or at least working for them, and were definitely involved in hurting and experimenting on a lot of people, including a girl not that much older than him. He had a feeling that was a bit too much for anyone, let alone a kid, let alone one who'd already been through so much in little more than a day.

Peter just nodded, sensing he wasn't going to get much more than that on that particular topic. So he switched it up a bit. "And what if my… _connection_ doesn't care about me the way you hoped they would? What then?" He hesitated, unable to hide the hint of fear that crept in his voice, as much for the answer as what would happen if it played out. "Would you hurt me? Is that the idea here?"

Tony frowned, glancing at his tablet and sending a silent command to Friday. An instant later, the kid's vitals popped up on the screen, and yes, his heartbeat was definitely rocketing. This was taking an unpleasant turn rather quickly.

The kid was still rambling, the questions seeming to get increasingly dark as he went. "I mean, I guess if you're going to torture me there's not much I can do about it," he was saying, mindless of the fact that Tony had tuned him out for at least a solid minute. "But I, uh, don't see the point in the whole kind charade then. Unless you're just trying to get me to trust you, but, I mean, I'm not dumb enough to try to fight you either way, so, uh, you don't really have to-"

"Kid." Tony got up, going back over to him and putting a hand on his leg. "Listen, just... stop right there." He could hardly stand to hear it, and not just because it was so close to what Cap had already said. He sighed, waiting until the kid's mouth was closed and he was sure he was done before speaking again. "Look, I can't answer half of those questions right now, alright? I'm still trying to figure half of this out myself. I don't want to hurt you, that I can promise you, but I can't promise you that I won't, intentionally or no. That's a level of low I don't want to stoop to, but it's also a level the people you're connected to already have, alright?"

The words felt like a punch in the gut to Peter. "You… these people… have someone you care about. They hurt them?" He wracked his brain, trying to figure out who he could ever be connected to that would do something like that. His connections were just so… limited. Honestly, he didn't even have a job, so no boss, no coworkers, just… one good friend, his parents, and a few extended family members. Unless he was missing something…

The man's voice pulled him from his thoughts again. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "That's… exactly it. You're my bartering chip here to get them back, and… and I can't honestly tell you the extent I would go to to do it. I'm sorry, kid, but that's all I've got."

The room was silent again for a long moment in the wake of the confession. Peter slumped back in the chair, confusion and worry and even some fear swirling around in his head as he tried to make sense of what he'd been told. It made sense, even if he didn't like it, although he was still completely lost as to who he could be connected to and why they would do something like that. And he couldn't help the fear added into the mix, even if the reasons behind it weren't what one would expect. He was sure he could handle whatever this guy could dish out, but there were so many ways he could accidentally be revealed as something more than a normal kid. What with his strength, and his healing factor especially… there was no hiding that, not really, not if he had any first aid experience at all.

Even with the blindfold, Tony could read the conflict warring within him plain as day on the kid's face, and he knew there was little he could do about it. He wasn't good at comfort in general, and he knew there was little he could say in this situation to make it better anyway.

So he did the next best thing for both of them. Ignoring the twisting in his stomach, he got up again and changed the subject. "Anyway, kid, I'm working on a better solution for you than having to be stuck in that chair, but it's not quite ready yet. Another few hours at least." He moved back over to his desk, picking up his phone and pocketing it.

Peter heard him moving away, and he knew what he was going to say when he heard him shifting and pocketing stuff before he even said it. "I have to run a few errands," the man continued, confirming Peter's suspicion. "So I'm going to leave you alone for a bit. So long as you stay right there and don't try anything stupid while I'm gone, I won't go full out with the trussing bit again. Can we agree on that?"

He could feel the man's eyes on him, and he gave him a single nod, again glad that he was blindfolded because he knew if he wasn't he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to meet his eyes. "Yeah," he murmured, hoping he didn't see through the lie. If he was leaving, he'd have to take his chance to escape. He didn't have much other choice. He had to at least try.

If the man suspected anything, though, he didn't say so. He simply sighed, and Peter heard him turn away. "Good. Then I'll leave you be for now. If you're really good, I'll be sure to bring you something to eat back with me."

Peter willed his stomach not to growl at that, frowning slightly. Before he could say anything back, he heard the door again, and he knew the man was gone.

He groaned a bit, letting his head fall back again. It was easy for him to push thoughts of food away when no one brought it up, but as soon as he'd said it, he'd become painfully aware the only thing he'd had in hours was whatever that drink the man had given him earlier was. He'd had breakfast and lunch at school, and a sandwich directly after school from his favorite sandwich place, but he'd been abducted as he was leaving there. It had likely taken hours for him to wake up the first time and then he'd slept for he didn't even know how many more. So it was probably at least into the next day at this point, and considering the way his metabolism was, and the fact that all of his powers weakened with all the time he went without eating… it was a safe bet to say that he really did need to eat something, like, yesterday.

Right now, though, he needed to focus. There was only one way he could remedy that problem right now, and that would involve him actually getting out of these restraints. He knew he would only get one shot at this.

He took a few minutes to put together a rough plan - and to give it enough time to make sure the man was really gone - and then took a deep breath.

In one fluid motion, he jerked upwards, snapping his bonds on his wrists and going to work on getting free.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone! Just wanted to say thanks to everyone for all the support and love! If you didn't hear, my update schedule is off until around the beginning of September, when I will hopefully be settled in enough at school to create a new one or resume the old. So, updates will come whenever they're ready. **

**This chapter is a massive one because there was just no good place to stop. Hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to tell me what you think!**

What Peter didn't know was that the errands Tony had to run were still in the building. This probably stemmed from the fact he had no idea he was in a tower with over a hundred floors in it.

While Tony could sense the kid's hesitancy at the agreement, he had left anyway, not knowing that he could actually do any damage while he was gone. Besides, he didn't intend to be out for long. He'd said the process of building a replacement containment system for Peter would take a few hours, not that he would be gone that long. All he needed to do was check in on Pepper and the hurt Avengers, and also get himself and the kid some food. He hadn't quite figured out how he was going to feed him yet - if he was going to feed him himself, or if he could somehow let the kid eat on his own with minimal risks - but he could worry about that when he got to it. All in all it would depend on his behavior.

He had a hard time pushing the questions he'd asked him out of his mind. His reactions, the almost-panic attack, the way he seemed to understand the whole situation like he was old beyond his years but also seem so innocent and childlike in his disbelief. It was a paradox if he'd ever seen one. But then, whether he knew it or not, the kid's parents worked for Hydra. He couldn't imagine the unexplainable things he'd seen.

He did have to chuckle inwardly a bit when he recalled him asking if he even knew his name. Of course he knew his name. But choosing not to use it put a barrier between them he desperately needed. The last thing he needed was to bond with the boy. Besides, if he didn't use his name, and they went on not addressing each other directly by them, then he could avoid telling him his for a while longer. He'd find out who his keepers were eventually, the same way he'd probably find out his parents were Hydra agents eventually. But he wanted to spare him from it for as long as possible.

He started preparing a meal for him, calling Pepper and checking in on her and making sure he wasn't missing anything she wanted him there for. She was in charge now, and had been for a while, and he'd never come close to regretting it. But she did still occasionally want his help or need him to attend something or the other.

Thankfully, she was in the loop about everything happening with the Avengers as well, and so she'd made sure he was completely clear to deal with the Wanda situation to the fullest extent he could. There wasn't much he could do at the moment, but he was still grateful for it, and talking to her always reassured him, made him feel more grounded in a situation, even if he was mainly the one doing the talking. He'd had many a breakthrough while reasoning things out to her aloud. Even though she really had no idea what was going on this time and couldn't for a while, it still made him feel better to talk to her.

When he got off with her, he put the final touches on the food and then put it up until he was ready to go back. He needed to at least make an appearance to check on his fellow heroes, else they would know something was up.

Natasha and Clint has taken the worst of it, as they were the ones closest to the ground to fight the Hydra agents head on, and they had been completely wrecked by the ensuing collapse of the cave ceiling during the fight. Cap and Bruce had also been on the ground, but with Cap and enhancements, and Bruce turning into the Hulk, they were both able to dislodge the rocks on them pretty easily. While being Hulk meant Banner had been able to get out on his own, he'd still been pretty badly hurt along with Nat and Clint. Cap's healing meant he wasn't as bad off as everyone else; though he was also injured, he wasn't Medbay bound like the others. Sam and Tony has both been fighting from the air, in their respective suits, and so while they'd both been hit by some of the debris from the cave in, they'd been able to get out and avoid it being crushed under it until it stopped. Aside from himself, Sam was the only other one who was still good enough to be up and moving - not including Rhodey, who hadn't been able to get clearance to come. He'd been their consultant for most of it, but hadn't made an appearance in person in… well, a few months, actually.

He shook the thoughts away as he approached the Medbay. While he and Sam had still had to be evaluated, they'd both been cleared on return. It'd been two days since that mission, and he was pretty sure Nat and Clint were still in the Medbay with their injuries, and Bruce was going back and forth between himself and Hulk, which was a common problem when things went wrong on missions. He and Hulk had to work it out in their own way, and there was a room he typically stayed in while he did, which was where they likely were now. Tony knew enough not to bother him the same way he knew the other two would likely not appreciate his concern. While both of them had some extensive injuries, it was nothing they couldn't recover from. Fatally dangerous only without proper care, which if it weren't for the fact that they'd brought them in and kept them unconscious for most of the worst few hours, they probably would have refused. They were both stubborn and wouldn't want to be fussed over. Still, he needed to see them. They were his teammates, whether he liked to admit he cared about them or not.

He wandered in and looked through the observation glass to their rooms, next to each other, watching them silently for a long few minutes, taking mental stock of their conditions. They'd be fine. It appeared as though they were both asleep, currently, but he wasn't worried. At this point they were just sleeping off sedatives, probably failing to stay awake with the painkillers in their systems.

"They were both awake for a while," a voice said from behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know it was Steve who was approaching him. He stepped up beside his shoulder. "I talked to both of them this morning. Nat, of course, held out longer, wanted to stay awake and help as much as possible, but they both needed their rest. I forced her to lay back down after a while and then she was out again." There was an unmistakable fondness in his voice as he spoke about Nat, one that wasn't quite the same as when he did about Clint. "Clint wanted to be helpful too, but he didn't make it quite as long as Nat. Still, we did some work, but like I told you earlier, not much to show for it. Sam's been scouting like crazy."

"How's Bruce?"

"Hasn't left the room yet. I think the big green guy is taking the loss of the kid pretty hard." Steve stopped, looking at him. "Speaking of kids, hows ours?"

"He's doing as well as could be expected," Tony answered. He didn't really want to tell him about the panic attack or the way the kid had mirrored Cap's concerned questions with some of his own. "I just wanted to come up and check in on everyone, get something to eat. I need to feed the kid, too, although I'm not sure how yet." He frowned.

Cap shrugged. "I'll come down with you. I don't mind doing it. I want to talk to him anyway."

Tony checked his watch. He'd been gone about a half hour, so it was time enough to be getting back anyway. Leaving him alone for too long definitely made him antsy. "Yeah, alright. I don't know how he'll respond to you, though, so don't be surprised if he doesn't say much." _Or says a whole lot_. He clearly rambled when he started to get nervous, which only seemed to be when the reality of the situation hit him hard. He didn't know how he'd react to Cap's presence, especially since he didn't know what the super soldier was going to say. Still, he knew there was little point in asking or trying to stop him, even if it wouldn't be counterproductive to the plan.

So he simply motioned for Cap to follow him, going back to the kitchen to grab the plate of sandwiches he'd made earlier and heading for the elevator back to the workshop.

Neither of them were prepared for what awaited them there.

Peter didn't know what he expected, but this certainly wasn't it.

He probably should have guessed that taking the blindfold off would set him back a few minutes as his senses readjusted to all being usable again and stopped all trying to overcompensate for his lack others. Instead he ended up sitting in the chair for a moment after he was freed, cradling his head and cursing his haste and how long he'd had that stupid blindfold on.

When he settled enough to be back to normal and not feel half-sick from the sensory input, he got up and really looked around for the first time.

That was when he realized how screwed he was.

It was funny, being overwhelmed with fear and awe at the same time. Because on one hand, he could see one of the walls was made of floor to ceiling windows, and a quick glance showed he was hundreds of feet in the air. Had he had his suit, it might not have mattered, but he couldn't exactly jump out of a window as himself and go swinging through the city or scale down this huge building. He'd be spotted for sure. Of course, there also was no window to speak of, either, just a glass wall and door between him and the elevator and stairs that could be his only exit, and it was obviously locked. He'd have to break through it to even have a chance to get out.

But then on the other hand, he was standing in what appeared to be a workshop equipped with the highest level of tech and equipment money could buy and it was basically a waking dream. If it wasn't for the fact he was being held hostage in it, anyway.

The thought was enough to jolt him back to reality. He had no idea what was going on or where he was, and he didn't have the time to admire his surroundings, no matter how cool it was. He stepped up to the window again, looking for some sort of landmark to figure out exactly where he was.

A low humming sound entered his ears, and he froze, his mind spinning as he tried to put his finger on what it was. Then he heard a soft _ding_ and the realization hit him like a slap in the face.

The elevator. He was out of time.

He did the only thing he could; he jumped. There were few places to hide in here, and he had no doubt he'd be caught if he ended up in any of them. The ceiling, however, that would be the last place they'd look for him. If he could just sneak out when whoever was coming opened the door….

It was a solid plan, he thought, as he crawled right up to the edge of the glass wall, just far enough off to the side to be out of sight and also where he wouldn't be hit with the door when it opened. Then he saw who stepped out of the elevator, and he froze instead, all plans of escape forgotten.

Captain America.

And he was laughing good-naturedly in that way he had, the same way he did on those stupid PSA videos the school showed them of him, as he put an arm out in the elevator to keep the doors open for his companion to step out.

Tony Stark.

Peter's mind was spinning. What were they doing here? Had they come to free him? This seemed like a pretty low-level crime for the Avengers, though, unless they knew he was Spider-Man. But neither of them were in their customary suits, and they were so relaxed, and Mr. Stark was throwing a sideways look at Captain America while saying something and carrying a tray of sandwiches-

_If you're really good, I'll be sure to bring you something to eat back with me_.

_No_.

It had years since he'd watched any footage of Tony Stark doing anything besides fighting in the Iron Man suit, and just as long since he'd watched one where he'd heard his voice. That would explain why he hadn't recognized it. But… he was a hero. They were the Avengers. What-?

His thoughts were cut off when Stark approached the glass, opening the door with his shoulder and spinning around to face the room. "Yeah, well, I- _shit_!"

"What?" Captain America stepped up behind him, grabbing the door as Stark rushed inside, nearly throwing the tray down on his desk as he rushed over to the chair, the arms Peter had cracked when he snapped his bonds off. _Oops_.

"The kid's gone. And he… how the hell did he do that to the chair?" He stalked over, inspecting the damage he'd done to the chair he'd been tied down in.

Yeah, that was definitely his captor's voice. Well, didn't that make things interesting. And as much as Peter wanted to know what the hell was going on himself, the door wouldn't remain open for long and he couldn't lose this shot at getting out. He crawled swiftly across the ceiling to the outside of the door just as Cap let go of it to rush inside. He waited, holding his breath until it closed behind them, then let himself drop from the ceiling. He landed almost soundlessly on the ground facing the stairs.

Almost.

Cap's eyes snapped to him through the glass, and Peter cursed himself inwardly. Captain America was also an enhanced human. His senses might not have been quite as enhanced as Peter's, but they were still above average - enough so that he'd heard the light _thump_ of his landing through the glass.

For a second, their eyes locked. Then he forced his eyes away and shot into action, leaping towards the stairs, knowing he had to move _now_, because Captain America might be one of the only people in the world actually strong enough to restrain him if he wanted to and that that half-second of shocked hesitation was all the head start was going to get.

He didn't even make it down a whole flight of stairs.

He only made it a few feet when his Spidey sense tingled, telling him a millisecond before he heard the repulsors firing of the incoming danger. He managed to jump and twist to dodge the first two, but apparently his lack of proper rest and nutrition was catching up with him, because he just couldn't steady himself enough in time to dodge the third and forth shots, which caught him square in the shoulder and side respectively. Even though they were low powered and likely meant for little more than stunning him, they still hurt, and he was off balance already, and it was enough to send him tumbling down the rest of the flight. At least it would have been, had a firm hand not wrapped around his collar and kept him from rolling the rest of the way down the stairs.

"Not your smartest idea, kid." Stark's voice was soft, almost resigned, as if he hated the situation he found himself in. "Rogers, you got him?"

"Yeah." Captain Rogers grabbed the arm that hadn't been hit by the shot from Stark's gauntlet and pulled it behind his back, the other hand clamping firmly on his shoulder. "Let's walk, kid."

Peter let out a low, frustrated breath, letting himself be steered back into the workshop. He didn't have much choice. Like he'd predicted, Captain America's grip was like iron around him. He felt his eyes burn and blinked hard against the ridiculous feeling. He was _not_ going to have a break down right now. He'd known he'd be in trouble if he got caught and he'd taken the risk anyway, so he'd take whatever punishment they gave him without compliant. Even if he had never imagined he would be being put in this position by _Avengers_. The two faces of them, no less!

Stark had mass produced another chair from somewhere, this one made of some kind of metal. Cap pushed him into it, his hands gentle but unmovable against his shoulders, holding him in place. Peter kept his eyes down, still struggling to wrap his mind around what was happening. There was no point in making any excuses - it was obvious what he'd done hadn't been an accident, and that even more so that he'd been trying to get out. Although the damage he'd caused the chair, he wished he could have been a bit more subtle about. He wasn't quite sure how he'd explain that away.

He kept his eyes trained on the floor and kept quiet as Stark moved around to stand in front of the chair. He leaned against the edge of his desk and cleared his throat. "So… I admit this wasn't exactly how I was hoping you'd find out," the billionaire said, almost awkwardly. "But I was also hoping to be able to trust you about as far as I could have thrown you, and apparently that won't be possible either." He stopped, apparently bothered by Peter's lack of response. He heaved a sigh. "Kid. Look at me."

Peter finally lifted his eyes from where they were fixed on Stark's shoes and let himself meet the older man's eyes. He looked so tired, and no, he hadn't imagined that sad, resigned edge to his voice either. Stark offered him a wry half-smile. "That's better. But in all seriousness, what were you thinking?"

Peter pressed his lips together, debating on an answer. What the hell? He was already in trouble. "I was thinking I would be an idiot not to at least try while I had a shot of escaping. But I also didn't know that I was going to be chased after by the Avengers, either. What were _you_ thinking, Mr. Stark? Isn't your public image bad enough?"

Stark just snorted, not seeming bothered by the dig. "Kid, my public image became the last of my concerns a long time ago. It's nice to see you've got a tongue on you, though." He crossed his arms, tilting his head at him and studying him, probably deciding how best to punish him for his attempt.

Peter frowned at the thought, looking away and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Cap's grip on his shoulders tightened, and he flinched at the feeling of his strong fingers digging into the spot on his shoulder where he'd been hit with the shot from the repulsors. His eyes found Stark's hands, and he noticed the miniature gauntlet still on his hand. So he had versions that worked without the full suit. Scary and interesting. "I…" Peter's eyes flicked to his and then back down again. "Look, it's pretty obvious what I did, and I'm not going to apologize, so just… punish me however you want, but get it over with already." He slumped back in the chair, feeling the steady warmth of the soldier behind him. It was both comforting and terrifying to have him so close, especially in this situation, but there was little he could do about it either way.

Stark sighed. "I told you I don't want to hurt you, kid. And yeah, we both know what you were trying to do and that you lied. But…" The gauntlet-covered hand touched his chin, tilting his head up gently and forcing him to meet his dark eyes again. "If I were you, I would have done the same. So this time, we're going to let it go. If it happens again, though… I can't afford to be so lenient a second time. So let's not have another time, capiche?"

Tony didn't release the kid's chin until he nodded. His mind was still spinning from the events of the past ten minutes. He had no idea how he'd gotten out of that chair, how he'd mutilated it the way he had. Then there was where he'd been hiding, how he had gotten around them, the way he'd dodged his shots on the stairs like he'd known they were coming before he ever fired them for him to wrap his mind around. And okay, firing at the kid wasn't his most brilliant idea either, but it was an instinct reaction, and it had worked, even if he felt bad knowing he'd have minor burns everywhere he'd take a hit. At least Cap had been there. If he hadn't been close enough to get ahold of him, Tony would have had to resort to having Friday lock down the building, which would have worked for keeping him from escaping but also had the potential to become a huge, ugly mess very quickly.

Tony let him go, glancing up at Steve. The soldier was doing a solid job of remaining impassive, although Tony could see the relief and his acute discomfort even through his facade. He sighed, rising to his feet again and stepping back, then nodding to the Captain. "You can let him go."

The hands on Peter's shoulders released after a gentle, comforting squeeze. Then Captain America stepped around in front of him too, those familiar blue eyes looking at him with regret. "What's your name, kid?"

Peter looked from him to Mr. Stark, hesitating to see if he would say anything, whether in answer or to keep him from answering. He just gave him a slight nod, so Peter looked back to Captain Rogers and shrugged. "Peter. Peter Parker." If Stark already knew his name, there wasn't much point in refusing to give it to Rogers.

Cap nodded slowly. "Well, I'm-"

"Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. And Tony Stark. Iron Man." Peter looked between them, then down. "Yeah, I know." It was hard not to now. Even if he hadn't recognized them both on sight, the use of Stark's repulsors and Cap's super strength and hearing would have been clue enough for anyone.

Steve exhaled a long breath, looking from Tony back to the boy in the chair. "How much do you know?" The question was open for either of them to answer, but it was Peter who did.

"How much did he tell me or how much have I figured out?"

Stark frowned at him, but Rogers just shrugged and gestured for him to talk. "Both, if you think you know something."

Peter just shrugged, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "He told me somebody I was connected to took and hurt someone he cares about, and he took me to trade back for them. Considering what I know now, I'd guess it was one of the other Avengers, since I would assume you wouldn't be in on this unless it was someone you care about too. There's too many and too little information for me to guess who right now, though. And as for me…" He hesitated, looking down and chewing his lip for a moment. "Unless I have some super villain relative I don't know about, the only thing I've got is my parents. I don't think they'd do that, but…" He looked up again in time to see the look the two Avengers exchanged and trailed off. "Maybe I'm wrong."

"You're pretty close, kid," Stark acknowledged. "It's your parents that throw you off a bit."

"Tony-" Steve started to interrupt.

"Cap, the kid's going to find out sooner or later, and now that he's seen this much there's no point in stopping." He turned back to Peter, and almost as soon as his eyes fixed on him, that tingle went down his spine again. He wasn't going to like whatever he was going to say. Or it was going to be dangerous. Or both. "Look. What exactly is it you think your parents do?"

Peter frowned. "They're… scientists," he answered carefully. "They do medical research."

Tony looked at the kid and couldn't contain a snort. It wasn't so much that it was funny, as much as it was just so ridiculous to him, knowing the truth of what they were doing. "That's what they've told you?"

Steve shot him a look. The kid's brow furrowed, surprise and a hint of worry creeping into his face. "What? Why is that funny?

Rogers sighed, turning back to the kid and approaching him. "Peter… have you ever heard of Hydra?" he asked, his voice quiet and careful.

"Hydra? In… in history class." He looked up again, and for the first time, Tony was struck by the kid's huge brown eyes, the way they made him look like a lost puppy, sad and confused, when he looked at them like that.

He forced his eyes away, cursing himself for sinking into that trap. This was precisely why he'd kept the kid blindfolded. Well, one of the reasons why, anyway. "Hydra isn't history, kid," he said, his eyes firmly fixed on a spot in the distance. "And your parents are a part of it. You wanted to know why you - well, there it is. They might not be purely at fault for what's happening to Wanda, but they're at least a part of it."

"Wanda?" Peter looked between them, struggling to recall that name.

"You may know her better as Scarlet Witch," Cap told him softly.

"Oh. _Oh_." Put that way, he definitely remembered hearing about her, although he wasn't sure if he'd seen her or not. He shook the thoughts away. "But… my parents. I don't understand. How do you even know they were involved?"

"They are involved. We have video- _Tony_." Cap sounded slightly exasperated when the other man pulled out his phone, hitting a few buttons. "The kid doesn't want to see that."

"Well, maybe he needs to, Cap." Admittedly, Tony didn't like it much either, but unless he saw the irrefutable proof, he was never going to come around. So he flipped his phone and let the holographic video stand between them, letting him see about a minute's worth of one of the videos they'd been sent. He chose the calmest minute that both the Parkers were seen in that he could find, and for their sanity as well as the kid's, he muted to the audio. None of them wanted to hear Wanda's screams again.

The silence was almost worse, too eerie and tense to be considered peaceful. The only sound in the room was that of their breathing, and in Peter's case, he could also hear the beating of the two Avenger's hearts, both slightly elevated right now despite their calm exteriors. But he tried not to focus on that, tried to watch the video, but seeing the girl on the table, his parents coming in and out of frame with others, knowing they had a part in what he saw in front of him-

He didn't realize his breath had started to hitch until Captain America ran his hand through the hologram, dissolving it. He was vaguely aware of him saying something to Stark, and movement in front of him, and suddenly both of the heroes were crouched in front of him again. He blinked a few times, trying and failing to clear the fuzziness in his vision.

Then a hand clamped back on his shoulder again, and the surprise and also pain from contact to where he'd been burned by the shot from the gauntlet regrounding him harshly in reality. "Peter, look at me, kid," he heard Captain Rogers saying suddenly. "Breathe."

Oh, he wasn't breathing. That explained the fuzziness in his vision. He sucked in a deep breath, then another, letting Cap's voice guide his breathing back to a normal rate. When he was fairly calm again, he managed to focus his eyes on the two heroes in front of him, both of whom were still looking at him in concern.

"Better?" Stark's voice was calm and quiet, although maybe tinged with a hint of guilt. It was the second panic attack he'd nearly sent him into in as many hours; in any other scenario he wouldn't be surprised the man felt guilty, although he wasn't sure what to believe in this one.

He couldn't quite manage to talk just yet, so he gave him a silent nod instead. He was still having trouble focusing, taking it all in. This was just...no. He had no idea what to even believe at this point. His parents were working for Hydra. So they were… what, evil scientists? But then, did he believe that? Should he? These were the Avengers; they were the heroes. On one hand, he wanted to. On the other, they had abducted him. Even with good reason, that was still illegal, and they still hadn't given him any guarantees of what was going to happen here. So they were what then? Enemies? That didn't seem right either.

This was all just too much. Maybe it was a bad dream. But if it was a dream, he shouldn't feel this way, right? Sick and dizzy and hurt and…

Tired. He was so _tired_.

"Alright, that's enough for now," Stark suddenly announced, standing up. "Clearly the kid can't take anymore right now. Capsicle, lets go, let him get some rest. We need to talk anyway."

"Where is he supposed to rest in here? Anyway, you forgot you were supposed to feed the kid," Rogers countered, nodding to the tray of sandwiches on the desk.

Stark froze, glancing at the desk and seeming to just remember them when Cap pointed it out. "Oh. Right. Let's do it this way then." He turned back to Peter, who was half listening, half trying not to pass out. "Here's the deal, kid. We're going to leave you here for now. There's a couch in the back, bathroom over there-" he waved toward each thing as he spoke, and if Peter had had much more sense left he might have thought that the whole setup of the workshop was weird, but unfortunately he didn't have the capacity for such thoughts right then, "-and I'm going to leave these sandwiches here. Eat, clean yourself up, do whatever you need to, then try to lay down for a bit. And no funny business this time, either. I'll be watching this time, and if you so much as walk too fast or touch something you shouldn't I _will_ be alerted. And then I'll have to restrain you again, and that's not fun for any of us, alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark." It was the only thing he could manage right now, and even that was barely a whisper. Like he'd try anything again, even if he could in this state.

Tony could sense that something was off, and a look at Steve confirmed that he also noticed it. The kid was holding his head and shaking gently. He was probably just going into shock, but he was breathing normally again. There wasn't much he could do for him, not right now, and Steve seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he just shrugged helplessly and inclined his head towards the door. So Tony just sighed, murmuring, "Be good, kid. I'll be back," before following Captain America out the door and letting it close and lock behind them, sealing the kid inside again.


	6. Chapter 6

**This is another relatively short filler chapter, but you gotta move things along somehow. So I won't bore you guys too much, cause there's not much else to say except thank you to all the readers and I hope you enjoy!**

There was a heavy silence between them as Tony and Steve made their way back up to the Avengers' level.

Neither of them said anything for a long few minutes as they settled down on one of the couches in the normally busy common room. Tony pulled out his tablet and pulled up the feed from his workshop, setting the tablet propped up on the table in front of them. He was definitely going to keep an eye on him this time.

Not that there was too much to see now. The kid had scarfed down probably at least half the sandwiches in the time since they'd left, then disappeared into the bathroom. Tony knew there was nothing he could get into in there, nor any way for him to escape as the only door in there was the one that led both in and out, but he still kept an eye on that tablet as Steve turned to him again.

"Tony, we need to talk about what just happened." Cap crossed his arms, looking at him with a strained expression.

"Obviously." Tony sighed, turning from the tablet to face the soldier. "I know I should have done something, and I definitely shouldn't have shot him, but it was the only weapon I had, and-"

"No, not about that. I wouldn't have punished him either, and you reacted on instinct." Cap dismissed his worries with a wave, then leaned forward again. "No, I mean… we need to talk about how the kid did that, for starters. And also… where he was." He hesitated, looking like even he didn't believe what he was about to say, but eventually he blurted, "Tony, I think he was on the ceiling."

"What?" Tony frowned, leaning back slightly. "Cap, he's just a kid. Maybe a freakishly strong kid, if what he did to the chair was any indication, but-"

"He just dropped to the ground from seemingly nowhere outside the door," Cap countered. "If he was somehow on the ceiling, that would explain how he got out around us, too. And there's that too! What he did to the chair… I just… I don't like it, Tony. Something is really weird about him."

Tony considered what he was saying. He'd had the same thought himself, but not exactly in relation to the same thing. But now that he considered it… the kid was painting a very odd overall picture of himself. He'd handled being kidnapped incredibly well, except for a minor panic attack, and Tony suspected that had less to do with what was going on around him than something internal. The way he'd reasoned things out so accurately, his apparently hidden survival capabilities like those reflexes on the stairs and that crazy strength… And Cap was right about him escaping when they had opened the door. He had to be, or else Friday would have alerted him to the security breach before they'd gotten there. Still, the kid climbing on the ceiling was hard to fathom.

"Okay," he said, after a long moment of silence. "I agree, he's weird. So what are you getting at?"

Cap hesitated, looking down and closing his eyes as if bracing himself. "I… his parents are Hydra agents, Tony. We've all seen what they've done firsthand. I just think it's a possibility that… perhaps he's been the subject of some unwitting experiments."

The thought hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. He suddenly realized why Cap had said he didn't like it, because he didn't like it, either, especially because it was so damn likely. It didn't explain some of the weirdness, sure, but… "_Shit_," he muttered, running a hand over his face. "That's…" Twisted and crazy and awful in so many ways, yet he didn't know how he hadn't considered it before. This was Hydra they were talking about. "Any ideas how we can be sure?"

Steve considered it. "Bloodwork?" he suggested. "Depending on what they did to him, that might give us some idea of what we're working with here. And I think we should check Friday to be sure how he got out."

Tony nodded, picking up the tablet. That was exactly what he was thinking. He pushed the current surveillance of the kid to the side and had Friday pull up the surveillance footage from a few hours ago, scanning through it until he'd just gotten to where he'd watched himself leave.

The kid sat there for a good few minutes after he was gone, lips moving silently as he seemed to try to plan or hype himself into action. Then, suddenly, he gave a firm pull, and both arms of the chair snapped off, the wood pieces slipping out and letting him easily pull his arms from the ropes. Then the blindfold came off, and immediately he shut his eyes again, clutching his head in apparent agony.

Cap leaned closer to the screen. "Wait a second. The panic attack earlier…" He'd seen it when he was scrolling through the footage, and Tony had briefly given him that explanation. "I don't think that was a panic attack."

"What?" Tony glanced at him, frowning slightly. "Cap, I've seen a panic attack before. I've _had_ panic attacks before. He was hyperventilating and shaking-"

"-and he was froze up in his seat like he was afraid to move, not freaking out and trying to move," Cap pointed out. He nodded to the screen again. "Just like he is here. And he's clutching his head, not his chest. It's sensory overload. I get it too. But mine is from my enhanced senses." His face was thoughtful but pained as he watched the kid crack his eyes open again slowly and get to work on freeing his legs. "You don't think…"

"I don't know, Cap. It seems like nothing is impossible at this point." Tony sighed, watching as he freed himself and started taking in his surroundings before approaching the glass wall to the outside. "Is there any way to really be able to tell for sure?" He glanced back at Steve.

He thought about it, chewing on his lip. "None that wouldn't hurt him," he said with a sigh. "I know a few sure-fire ways to induce the sensory overload, but…"

"Yeah, we'll only go that far if we have to," Tony agreed without him having to finish. He glanced back at the screen and blinked in surprise. In the span of a few seconds, the kid had somehow gotten on the ceiling and was clinging to it, hanging just above the door as their past selves approached it. He was staring down at them with wide eyes, seeming to listen to them for a few minutes before shaking himself out of it and slipping out the top of the door.

"Holy shit," Tony blurted, before he could think better of it, watching as he dropped from the ceiling outside the door and as they turned to race after him. He shut the video off at that point. "You were right, Cap. But how… I mean, what the hell kind of enhancement could he possibly have? He's just… walking on the ceiling." He had to admit, he hadn't expected that turn of events. The kid finding a way to get up there had seemed far fetched enough, but the fact that he hadn't even appeared to use anything to do it…

"That's… definitely weird," Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Definitely not normal."

"That's the understatement of the year." Tony sighed, getting up. "I don't know about you, but I want some answers. And I'm not really qualified to do bloodwork."

Steve stood up too, crossing his arms. "Well, pick your poison, then. Because Bruce isn't going to be ready to do anything for us anytime soon, so you're either going to have to wait for him to get your bloodwork or bring him up to the Medbay for someone else to do it."

Tony made a face. Neither of those options were particularly appealing. "Well, we've already faced him with the truth about his parents, and he knows what's going on, so… maybe I can just talk to him," he reasoned. "If he denies it, we have the video evidence. The only thing he can do is refuse to tell us anything, and I doubt he will." If their earlier encounter was anything to go by, he suspected they wouldn't have any more trouble. He'd taken his shot and lost; now he would just cooperate and hope for the best. Tony knew that feeling, and he felt bad for inflicting it on the kid, but he didn't have much for other options here.

The captain didn't look quite as sure, but he just nodded. "I'm going to go check in on everyone and see if Sam has anything for us," he told him. "Just call if you need me."

"Will do." Tony watched him head towards the Medbay with his lips pressed together in a thin line, waiting until he'd disappeared from his sight before heading back to the elevator.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone! Wow, this story has quickly become my second most popular story (only after Internship, which I'll be amazed if anything ever comes close to). I've always had a thing for writing stories in this type of vein, so I'm glad to see everyone is liking it! **

**Sorry for the ****unpredictability**** of the updates! I move in this week and start class next, so hopefully I'll be able to get into some sort of a schedule again shortly. In the meantime, please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy! **

When he arrived back downstairs, the kid was unconscious on the couch.

He'd went back to his quarters long enough to take a shower and grab some food, satisfied that the kid wasn't going to try anything while he was gone. Last he'd checked, he'd come out of the bathroom and had finished off most of the sandwiches, and was just sitting on the couch, still looking dazed. Tony was actually glad to see that he'd fallen asleep. He looked like he could use the rest.

Sighing slightly, he grabbed a blanket from the nearby closet and approached him quietly, draping it over him. He considered whether he should tie him back up, but dismissed the idea for now. When they made a video for Hydra, they would have to, but there was no point in doing that to him again now. He'd already shown he could break out of most bonds, and if Hydra really had experimented on him, and he really was modified in some way, it would just be an unnecessary pain. Especially the senses part. He did still want to know about all of that, but…

It could wait. At least until the kid woke up on his own. He started to turn away.

The teen on the couch started to stir, though at the noise or the feeling of the blanket being put on him he couldn't say. Tony stopped, hesitating as he rolled over, his eyes fluttering open slowly. Those wide brown eyes focused on him, and again Tony was struck by his innocent look, that sweet puppy dog expression the kid didn't even seem to know he had. He found himself thinking that if he'd actually stopped and even gotten a decent look at the kid on the street the day he'd abducted him, he probably wouldn't have been able to make himself do it. And if Hydra called his bluff and he had to do something… he didn't know _what _he would do. He didn't know if he could make himself do _anything _to him, but he knew it would have to be him. He'd started this; he definitely couldn't push it on Steve or Natasha, even though he knew either one of them would step up to the plate if need be.

God, when did he become so weak?

The kid... no, _Peter_, he corrected himself; he may as well say his name now, he was clearly not as emotionally detached as he'd wanted to be. _Peter _had started to sit up, his eyes still wide as saucers as he scrambled upright. "Oh, Mr. Stark, I-"

Hearing him say his name was still weird, especially because no one else ever called him that. Some variation of his name, first or last, Iron Man, or even some nicknames, depending on who it was. But Mr. Stark was his father, as far as he was concerned. Still, he didn't think the kid would take too kindly to him saying so, and honestly, he couldn't fathom telling him to call him Tony in this scenario.

He shook the thoughts away, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder to steady him and ease him back down. He tensed under his touch, but Tony pretended not to notice. "You're fine, kid. Just lay back down for a while."

Peter leaned back slowly, letting himself be guided down - even though, if what he'd done to the chair was any indication, he could easily have pushed back - but not laying back down completely. He pulled the blanket tighter around him, watching every move he made like a hawk.

Conscious of his nerves, Tony moved with purposeful slowness as he settled on the couch beside him - close enough to keep his hand on his shoulder, but not so close as to make him more uncomfortable. He studied him again, noticing suddenly that his hair was a shade darker and messier than it had been when he'd left. Wet. He must have used the sink in the bathroom to clean himself up a bit. Good.

"How are you feeling?" It wasn't necessarily the best question, or the best phrasing of what he was aiming for or to even get on that path, but it was still a prudent question.

Peter looked down, picking at the fuzzies on the blanket. Even that he only did one-handed, and slowly, repetitively, as if afraid Tony would do something if he even moved too fast. His shoulder lifted slightly under Tony's hand. "Fine."

He knew he was lying. The fact he couldn't even look at him was enough to tell him that, even if his behavior wasn't a sign in and of itself. He couldn't help the frustrated sound that escaped his throat. "Kid-"

Peter flinched, probably involuntarily, and leaned away. "Okay, well what do you want me to say? That everything is great?"

"No, but you can tell me the truth," Tony said, patiently, carefully keeping his tone level and his face open and void of any irritation. "When we left you earlier you looked like you were going to pass out, kid. I know it's a lot to take in-"

"A lot to take in? Seriously?" Peter pulled away fully, throwing off the blanket and getting up. Tony watched him, cautious, but the kid just stalked a few feet away before spinning around, throwing his hands up. "If you mean having everything I think I know pulled out from under me and having my life turned upside down _again_, then yeah, it's a lot to take in! Do you have any idea what that _feels _like?"

The "again" didn't slip his notice, but now wasn't the time to press it. Tony leaned forward, clasping his hands together in his lap. "Don't I? Was it not me who had a hit ordered on them by someone they grew up with and trusted with their life - my father figure in the absence of the ones I'd grown up with? And seeing my life's work, what I thought I was doing good things with, be used against me and innocent people?" He tilted his head at him. "Believe me, kid, I know what it feels like to have that all ripped away. I do. It is hell, and I am sorry for that. That's why I was trying to keep you from figuring out who we were for a little longer. The longer you didn't know the truth, the better."

Peter flinched, looking away. All the anger seemed to drain out of him at once. "I… I know. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I just…" He took an unsteady breath, covering his face. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what I'm supposed to believe. If I don't even know who the people who raised me are really, how do I even know who I am, _what _I am? What am I capable of?" He dropped his hands, looking at them worriedly and then at Tony, his eyes shining with uncertainty bordering dangerously on full-out terror.

Tony stood up, taking a step toward him. "Calm down, kid," he tried to soothe him, but the boy wasn't having any of it.

He staggered back a few steps, shoving his hands through his hair. "I… I thought I knew _one thing _about myself, and what if… what if I don't even have that?" His panic was increasing with every second.

Tony took him by the shoulders, squeezing them and immediately feeling bad for it when the kid flinched and he remembered he'd probably burned his shoulder with his repulsor shots earlier. "Hey. Look at me. Let's just sit back down and talk, alright? I should take a look at your shoulder-"

"No!" Any amount of calm he'd managed to make the boy was gone in that instant, and he jerked out of his grasp, impossibly quick. "No, I'm- I'm fine. My shoulder is fine."

"Okay," Tony soothed, reaching for him again. "Come on. Sit. I won't touch you if you don't want me to."

Peter dodged his hand again, but moved around, doing as he asked. He sat a little further down than before, closer to the end of the couch, and Tony settled back into his former spot, letting him keep the distance he wanted between them. The kid was shaking visibly, and he didn't even seem to notice it, as far off as his mind seemed.

Tony gave him a minute to himself before trying again. "Hey," he started again, gently. "I know you don't want me to touch you, but you should at least let me give you something to do a little first aid on those burns. I know those shots had to hurt-"

"There are no burns," Peter interrupted. "I'm fine. No marks. Honestly."

He wanted to tell the kid that he was full of shit. He could see where he'd singed his clothes. In favor of not scaring him further, he decided to drop it for now. "Alright. Can we just talk then? Capsicle isn't mad, you know. Neither am I. We do need to ask you a few questions, though."

"I don't know if I know the answers. I don't know anything about Hydra. Or my parents, apparently." His voice was quiet, exhausted, but somehow still bitter.

"Not about Hydra. About you. About… earlier." Peter flinched, and Tony held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not mad, remember? But I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me the truth." He ducked his head, trying to catch his eyes, but Peter wasn't having any of it. He sighed. If he didn't want his comfort now, fine. Then he'd just tell him straight and deal with it later. "Look. Cap saw you climbing on the ceiling." Peter's head shot up at that with a sharp intake of breath, but Tony kept talking, not giving him a chance to butt in. "And we looked back at the security footage and saw what you did with the chair and all that. You had to know you were on camera, kid, and we saw it all. And I promise you neither of us are mad, but I need to know how you did it. If someone hurt you…"

He stopped when he saw Peter's face change for the first time since he'd got him back on the couch. It shuttered off again quickly, but Tony had seen the flicker of mixed emotions he was trying to hide. "Peter," he said, quietly, and the boy finally looked at him, probably more out of surprise that he'd used his name for the first time than because he was talking to him. "If someone did something to you… if it was your _parents_-"

"It was _not_ my parents," Peter interrupted. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, sighing heavily. "That might be the only thing I'm sure of, but I _am _sure of it."

Tony wasn't so sure, but he wasn't going to argue with him, especially not if he was willing to talk. "Okay. Who was it then?"

"I… don't know. But I heard voices, and they weren't my parents, so…" He dropped his hands and shrugged helplessly. "Maybe it was Hydra, for all I know."

"Can you tell me what happened?" He tried to make it a question, not an order, but he could tell he'd failed. Peter shifted uncomfortably beside him, face flashing with those emotions he was trying to push down, and Tony took the opportunity to add, "Whatever you know about it, at least. And if it's too painful-"

"I just don't know much, alright?" Peter wouldn't look at him. He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Like I said, I heard… voices. And I know I wasn't gone for more than two days, because it was Friday the day I disappeared and I didn't miss any school, according to Ned. It just _seemed_ like it was longer." He stopped for a moment, those brown eyes wife and unfocused, fixed on something Tony couldn't see.

"How did you get there?"

"I don't know."

"What did they do to you?"

"_I don't know_." Peter looked at him again for the first time, his eyes wide and sincere and just _filled_ with barely-contained raw emotion. "I told you I don't know anything. I was on my way home from school and then I just wasn't. It was dark and I heard voices and I was in and out of consciousness and it's all just _fuzzy_. I remember sensations and smells, mostly. Then I just woke up back at the apartment sicker than a dog and when it went away…" He sucked in a deep breath, his whole body shuddering. "That's when things started happening."

"When you started to discover new abilities." It wasn't a question.

Peter nodded anyway, still hugging his knees to his chest. "Yeah."

Tony felt for the kid, he really did. And he felt even worse upon hearing the story, because no _wonder_ he'd nearly had a panic attack when waking up the first time; it must have been his worst nightmare to get kidnapped again, especially by the same people. It certainly explained his reactions some - he'd nearly freaked at the thought they'd come after him again, but when he realized they hadn't, he was fine. After all, he's clearly taken worse. But Tony had almost recreated the beginning of that kidnapping for him - being attacked and taken on the way home from school, then waking up tied up and in an unfamiliar place. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling the guilt settle onto his shoulders. Just one more thing for him to carry with him forever.

"Okay," Tony said, finally, after a long silence. "Can you tell me what these abilities are?"

Peter suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes again. "Mr. Stark…"

"Kid, we've already seen probably half of them. You can tell me."

Peter was quiet for a moment. Then he straightened suddenly and blurted, "Where's my backpack?"

"What?" That was the last thing Tony had expected him to start freaking out about.

"My backpack. What did you… you didn't… no, of course you didn't, or you wouldn't be asking me," he murmured, answering himself.

Tony had no idea what his sudden fixation on it was, but he got up and crossed the workshop, picking up the backpack from where it had been resting behind his desk since he'd brought him in. "This backpack?" he asked, letting it hang off his finger in front of him.

"Yes!" Peter was on his feet in an instant, nearly frantic. "Please, I-"

"I'll tell you what," he interrupted, holding up his other hand to stop the boy. "Tell me what your abilities are, and I'll give it back to you, everything intact. Your phone is even in here. Maybe I'll even undisable it long enough for you to make a phone call." Yeah, he could do that. Excluding the authorities, he could call anyone he wanted. No one would believe him even if he told them the truth. He'd even let him call his parents, if he wanted to - the likelihood they would pick up was so low, knowing what they were in the middle of, and even if they did, all the better. He didn't have to tie the kid up to make his demands.

Peter's eyes went wide. He knew he'd made an offer he couldn't refuse. He still tried, though. "But… But I've never told anyone about them, and I just… How do I know I can trust you?"

"I've kept my word thus far, haven't I?" Tony met his eyes. "Besides, kid, if you don't tell me, then we'll do what we have to to figure them out." Peter paled almost instantly, and he realized how that sounded. "Not- bad, I mean, we're not the bad guys here. Just... bloodwork and such. But don't think I won't tie your scrawny butt back down if I have to, and believe me, I have bonds that'll hold you for real if we need to."

For a moment he wondered if the kid would say anything or just pass out. But then he took a steadying breath, biting his lip. "Who can I call?"

Tony shrugged. "Anyone you want. Your parents, even. I don't care."

"Privately?" Peter pressed.

"No can do there. I can't leave you alone with it. Even if I did, Friday monitors everything. I could still listen." Tony cocked his head at him. "Are you taking this deal or not?"

Peter hesitated. He wanted to, he could see, but the fear had a tight enough grip around the kid's heart that he was having a hard time giving in. "I want my phone call first."

Tony sighed, having a quick internal debate. He could hold his ground and say no; it wasn't like the kid had any leverage here. They would find out either way and he knew it. But then, they would find out either way, and clearly he already knew he had no leverage, because he looked so _desperate_. And he had no reason to make him feel so desperate. For reasons he couldn't even fathom, he liked the kid. And he wanted him to like him, _trust_ him. God only knew why.

"Fine," he relented at last. He set the bag down on his desk. "Let me get your phone and-" He started to unzip the bag.

"Mr. Stark, no!" Peter lurched forward, one arm outstretched - upside down, weirdly, but Tony only shot him a half second glance and didn't really notice as he unzipped the top pouch. He'd been in a hurry when he dropped it in, and he wasn't entirely sure which pouch he'd thrown it into.

"Relax, kid. I've seen worse than whatever horrors you're hiding in here-" He reached in the pouch, feeling around for the phone.

"No!" Peter gasped, just as Tony's hand latched around a rolled up piece of fabric. Confused, he glanced over at him, and, intending to pull it out just to be have it out of the way, he pulled it out of the bag-

He stopped, staring at the wad of tied up material in his hand. His eyes flicked from the telltale red and blue bunch clenched in his fist to the kid's face, the look of horrified fear on his paralyzed features.

The Spider-Man suit was hanging between them.


	8. Chapter 8

**I should have been working on Internship, I know, but I don't do well with cliffhangers either xD There was no point in waiting to post when it was done (because I'm just as much of a sucker as Tony is in this chapter lol). Huge thanks to everyone reading and especially my consistent commenters, you guys are the best! Enjoy guys!**

..._having my life turned upside down_ again…

..._how do I even know who I am, _what _I am? What am I capable of?_

_I thought I knew _one thing _about myself, and what if… what if I don't even have that?_

What are you capable of indeed, Tony thought to himself. Holy _shit_. All this time, all the research they'd done, all the tabs they'd kept, and they discovered who the Spider-Man was by kidnapping him by chance because of a connection to the monsters who'd accidentally made him what he was. He wasn't even a man. He was a fifteen year old kid.

A kid who was hyperventilating in front of him _again_ and looked like he was going to pass out at any second.

Now wasn't the time to puzzle out an accurate reaction to this. Not when the kid looked like he could bolt or throw up or collapse at any second.

Tony dropped the bag and the suit onto his desk. "Kid-" he started, cautiously, moving around the desk towards him.

"No! Don't touch me!" Peter scrambled back. The world was shimmering in and out of focus as blind panic and adrenaline coursed through him. He held his hands out in front of him as if to stop him, as if that would do anything to stop Iron Man if he really wanted to get to him. He felt like he was underwater. This was too much; it was all _too much_. Now that they knew… it was one thing for them to think him a mutant freak; it was another for them to know his abilities and his weaknesses. They could easily find them out now. All of his greatest escapades, successes and failures alike were on YouTube. They could render his powers ineffective. And no doubt knowing what he could _do_ meant they'd never trust him in the slightest again and he'd be lucky if he didn't end up in a literal cage, because that was probably the only thing strong enough to hold him. They were going to lock him up or worse and that was assuming the punishment for lying to them wasn't awful enough that he was able to comprehend what came next, or that his punishment wouldn't be them telling his secret to the world or holding it over his head to force him to do something like go after his parents or worse-

"Kid? Peter, hey, _hey_." He didn't know when he'd ended up on his knees, or when the tears had started to blur his vision in the place of adrenaline, but there he was, and by the time he realized he was there Tony Stark was in front of him, also on his knees and holding his shoulders. "You have to calm down, kid. Breathe. Please, just breathe."

He was, he knew he was, because he was sucking in breaths like crazy, he just wasn't getting an oxygen. "I can't- I'm not-" He tried to pull back, to push him away, but he was failing, and there was no super strength when there was no God-blessed oxygen and then a gauntleted hand was grasping both of his wrists in front of him and he didn't even know when it happened, the other, entirely human one cupping his face.

He tried to turn his head away. "Please don't- don't tell anyone. I-I'll do whatever you want, forget the phone call, forget all of it, I just- just don't take it away from me. But my parents, please don't make me go after them. I can't do it, Mr. Stark, I can't-"

"Kid-" Tony stopped, completely thrown by this turn of events and dangerously close to the edge of hysteria himself. He was hopelessly lost right now. Panic attacks were one thing; inconsolable teenager super powered hostages were something totally out of his league. "Peter, kiddo, you have to breathe. I'm not going to expose you, or hurt you or your parents, and I'm not going to make _you_ hurt your parents, either. It's going to be okay, alright?" Mimicking what Pepper usually did for him in the midst of a panic attack - with his free hand, because he was _not_ letting go of the kid's hands until he was sure he was out of it enough he wasn't going to deck him, or, considering their newfound discoveries, swing somewhere out of reach - he gently ran his fingers through his curly hair, still slightly damp from the wash in the sink, and then pulled him in, pressing his head to his chest where he was sure he could hear his mostly-calm heartbeat.

He just held him there for an uncertain amount of time, running his hands repeatedly through his curls, letting his chin rest on the top of his head and humming softly to him as Peter's tears soaked into his shoulder and the teen trembled against him. His breathing slowly settled back down but for the occasional hiccup, and his shaking eventually subsided.

Slowly, Tony pulled back, his fingers still tangled in the teen's curls. He released his grip when he saw his bloodshot eyes, releasing his head in favor of wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Hey there. Is that better?"

Peter bit his lip to keep it from wobbling, nodding once and looking down. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked, and his eyes fluttered closed and cinched shut, clearly trying to keep his calm.

Tony's chest ached at the brokenness of the boy in front of him. "Kid, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Not for lying, not for what happened earlier, not for not telling me, not for having a panic attack, _nothing_." He ran his fingers through his hair again. It was so _soft_. "All of this is my fault. And maybe slightly Cap's, but he'll never admit that." Peter let out a choked laugh, and Tony offered him a small smile in return, grateful the attempt at humor had been recognized and accepted. "Now listen, I know… I know this is hard. I'm sorry. I am. And I promise you that I am not mad and I'm not going to do anything to keep you from being Spider-Man… once you're out of here." His smile was sad but gentle as he tilted his chin up, making him meet his eyes. "But right now, I'm afraid I need just Peter Parker. I'm going to have to put the suit away for now. All of it." He shifted his grip on his wrists, revealing the black bands he'd paid no mind to earlier because he hadn't realized what they were. It was glaringly obvious now. "Including these."

Peter's eyes widened slightly, and he gave a feeble tug against his grip. "Please don't take them. I promise, Mr. Stark, I won't-"

"Hey, hey." He cupped his cheek again, stroking his thumb over it gently and forcing himself to exude calmness to hopefully keep the kid from freaking again. "I know. I know you won't. But Hydra doesn't, and if they really did it, and they know it's you, or they figure it out, and they think they can leave you to fend for yourself, everything I need goes out the window, okay?" God, he felt so guilty saying it, and for still truly planning to go through with this, but what choice did he have? He'd come this far, caused the kid enough trauma, he had to at least try. "I promise you I'll give them back. Suit, webs, all of it. Nice pretty package in your backpack. All of it will be waiting for you at home when this is over." He unstrapped the bands from his wrists as he spoke, while the kid was distracted listening to him. He slipped them in his suit pocket. "It's alright, kiddo. Come here." He pulled him back to his chest, and Peter didn't resist, sinking into Tony's hug and closing his eyes.

Tony released his wrists and tensed at the way Peter immediately threw his arms around him, clinging to him with bone-crushing strength. He forced his muscles to relax and did the same, letting one hand rest on the back of his head and the other rub his back, slow and gentle caresses up and down his spine the way Pepper would do for him. The thought struck him this was probably the closest he'd ever been to anyone in years besides her - emotionally and physically - and he had to stifle a sigh.

Peter heard it and immediately started to pull away. "Sorry," he mumbled, but Tony pulled a hand back to his shoulder to keep him there.

"I told you not to be sorry. And I didn't tell you you had to move, did I? Just… lost in thoughts." He pushed a curl off of his forehead and noticed the kid barely flinched at the movement.

"That's...good, because… I'm stuck." Those brown eyes flicked up to him once to see his reaction, then immediately back down upon taking it in.

Not that there was much to see. Tony froze. "You're… stuck," he repeated. "How…"

"I don't…" Peter looked away. "It's complicated. I don't secrete like, webs, or anything. I make those on my own. But sometimes… usually when I want to, or when I get really emotional… I can stick to things." As if to demonstrate, he gave a light tug against Tony's back, and he realized with a jolt that that the pressure was where his hands were sitting in the back of his jacket. Like he'd tried to lift them and couldn't.

"I...see." For one of the first times in his life, Tony was dumbfounded. He had less idea of how to deal with this than he did the kid having an emotional breakdown. "Well. How do you get unstuck?"

"When I do it on purpose, I can control it. When it's an emotional response…" Peter hesitated, shaking his head. "I don't know. It depends, really."

"On?" Tony prompted. He was trying to be patient, but this whole situation was growing increasingly awkward, meaning he was growing increasingly agitated, because he didn't do well with awkward.

The kid looked suitably abashed as he murmured, "Uh… a lot of things. It could be a few minutes or a few hours-"

"Yeah, I don't have a few hours." Tony pulled one of his hands between them and hit a button on his watch, sending a notification to Steve. "Okay, one Capsicle coming right up."

Peter jolted upright. "You called Captain America?"

"Yep. He's the only one with the strength to pull you off me." Tony sighed. "Besides, if you haven't noticed, we're in this together, kid. I have to tell him."

Peter looked down. "But… I don't trust him."

Tony stilled, looking down at him. He didn't think he'd ever heard those words uttered in his presence that weren't about him. No, this time the implication was the opposite. The kid… _trusted_ him? And _not_ Captain America? He thought he was the only person to ever not trust the soldier implicitly. And the idea that the kid trusted him… it struck him that this is what he'd wanted not even an hour ago, and now hearing the kid say that he did was enough to put his nerves on edge. He hadn't done anything to deserve that, and he certainly couldn't live up to it in this setting, and yet… his chest felt warm, and it wasn't from the arc reactor.

"Peter." Tony sighed, running his fingers through his curls again. It was the only thing that reliably calmed the kid down. "I'm sorry. I know this is not a good situation for you. But we're the Avengers, regardless of the less than ideal scenario. Cap is included in that. I won't tell anyone else until you're ready for that - _if_ you ever decide you're ready for that. It can stay between us three, but I have to tell him. Besides, I don't know how you'd expect to keep it from him in this scenario. You're kind of stuck to me, remember?"

He snuck a glance at the kid's face and saw he was blushing slightly, his head still down as if unable to meet his eyes. "Yeah, I guess so," he murmured.

Tony sighed, wondering what else he could really say to comfort him in any way. He was spared from having to do so when Peter's head came up sharply, and before he could ask what was the matter, the door to the workshop was opening from the other side of the room.

Steve stepped in, looking down at them with furrowed brows. "Tony? You alright?"

Like a child seeking comfort, Peter buried his head in Tony's shoulder again, effectively hiding his blush and trying to hide his re-emerging panic. Tony reminded himself that he _was_ a child, and super hero or not, the response was only to be expected. He tightened his grip on him automatically as he responded. "Yeah, no, Cap, we're good. Just a teeny problem." He jerked his head towards his shoulder. "Kid's stuck to me."

Suspicion melted into confusion as the super soldier approached, kneeling next to them. "He's…"

"Yep. Stuck. Freaky sticky powers from Hydra experimentation." What? What was he saying? He could have just said the kid was Spider-Man and he wouldn't have had to explain. And yet… he forced himself not to groan at how much of a sucker he really was, especially when he could feel Peter's chocolate eyes peering up at him through his hair. He forced himself not to look down at the disbelieving expression, knowing the kid's red and swollen but still hopeful eyes would never let him go through with it. If he even could now. "Just- help me get him off."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pull his hands off. Rip the jacket if you have to."

Steve frowned, nodding once. "I can try." He moved behind them, and Peter hid his face again. Tony felt the ridiculous urge to actually smooth back his curls and brush his lips over the teen's forehead. It was an oddly parental gesture he had no right to even _want_ to do, and Peter had barely tolerated him touching him at all, so he didn't. Still, it was hard to resist when he felt him tense against him, likely as Steve grabbed his arms and tried to decide the best way to go about removing him.

It only took a few seconds in all - a firm pull and the sound of tearing fabric, then a repeat on the other side. The arms around him dropped, limp, and fell back into Peter's lap, the patches of grey fabric still sticking to his hands.

Tony leaned back, shrugging off the ruined jacket and accepting the hand Steve offered to pull him to his feet. Then he turned back to Peter, who was peeling off the patches of fabric carefully, looking like he was concentrating hard. It was odd to see, not least of all because the fabric didn't look to be sticking to anything or for any apparent reason.

He grabbed Peter by the arm - not the hand, lest they have a repeat of the same issue - and pulled him to his feet as well. It was only when he was up and Tony was sure he was fine that he turned back to Cap and realized that the soldier looked like he had something else on his mind. His heart sank. "What is it?" Tony asked quietly.

Steve's gaze flicked back to him, then to the kid. Clearly he was stalling. "Figure out what he's capable of yet?"

"Aside from a few more details about the sticky-bit? No. But I'm working on it." It wasn't strictly a lie. He still only knew that much about his actual powers. He just wasn't telling Steve the kid was Spider-Man. Why? Hell if he knew.

He pushed the thoughts away. There were more pressing questions right now, like... "What is it?" Tony repeated.

Steve hesitated, looking between the two of them and pressing his lips together. "We kind of need to know what he's capable of, like, now, if you really want to go through with this."

Tony felt his heart stop for a whole half-second at the words. "Why?" he managed.

Steve just gave him a look that was equal parts sympathetic and sad, and he knew, instantly, the words he was going to say a second before they uttered them. "Hydra sent another video. And this time they're demanding action."


	9. Chapter 9

_...The Avengers, avenging one of their own..._

_...Before she's even dead..._

_...How pitiful._

_...If I didn't know better I'd think you'd given up on her. But you haven't, have you?_

_...You want her back? Fine. Prove it…_

_...Do exactly as I say and bring me the proof, and you can have your mutt back. _

_...Between you and me, I find the one you have much more interesting…_

_...Don't worry, oh mighty Captain, I know this wasn't your idea. Only Stark would have the guts to do something like this… _

_...Which is exactly why Stark will be the one to follow through…. Won't you?_

_...You clearly wanted a taste of what it's like to be the bad guy, Stark. Well, here you go..._

_...Bring me the proof by this time tomorrow. You know the place…_

_...If I'm satisfied by your performance..._

_...Then we'll talk about your little meet and greet. _

Tony wanted to throw up.

Half of what he'd just heard was still swirling in a never ending circle around his head.

The other half he'd almost immediately tried to block out.

The voice that had been placed over the video in place of the audio to what was actually happening was the same as it had been each time they'd come before. Tony had had Friday search every database he could get into and even a few he shouldn't have been able to, and he had no idea whose damn voice it was. All he knew for sure was that each time he heard it, his hatred for it grew a little more.

He'd let Cap insist that they step outside the glass to show it to him, even though he knew if the kid actually had enhanced senses it wouldn't make a whole lot of difference and he could probably still hear it. Now he hoped for his sake that he hadn't.

Hydra was a bunch of twisted bastards. How they'd figured out what they'd done already, Tony had no idea. The likelihood was that if they'd actually been the ones to give him his abilities - which, if the fact they'd indicated they clearly knew he had them was to be taken for anything, it was that they probably had - then they'd probably been keeping tabs on him from afar. Maybe even through his parents. They might have known, even if they didn't help. Or perhaps they'd just tried to reach him and realized they couldn't, and so they put two and two together.

It didn't much matter how, because they clearly did. They knew they had Peter, they knew _why_ they'd taken him, and they knew he had some abilities, although whether they knew the full extent of them or that he was Spider-Man was yet to be determined. They also had somehow accurately determined that this was Tony's plan. And now they were making him pay for it.

He didn't even want to _think_ about what they'd told him to do to the kid. Had blocked it out, mostly. He knew he had to face it, though. He'd brought it on both of them himself. He'd thought he'd known what he was getting into, but now…

Screw Hydra for calling his bluff. Why did they always have to be so _bad_?

"Tony." Steve's voice cut through the fog between him and the real world. He felt the super soldier's hand clap onto his shoulder, and it was enough to pull him the rest of the way out.

He sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to breathe, to not hyperventilate, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good and that they were only separated from the kid by a glass wall, meaning he could see them and if he lost it right here and now, Peter would definitely know something was up.

"Steve, I…" he faltered, at a complete loss for words.

"I know," Steve said, squeezing his shoulders. "I know, I do. I was worried this would happen." A nice way of saying "I told you so," but he wasn't petty enough and the situation was too serious for him to actually do so.

Tony rubbed his face. "Okay, yeah, we knew it was a possibility they would call us out, and that we might have to do _something_ to him, but… not like this. They gave _instructions_. Directed at _me_. To..." He faltered again, swallowing thickly. "Steve, I can't do that."

The captain just looked at him, his expression conflicted. "Tony… I don't agree with it either, but you said yourself that this was our best shot. And they didn't really leave us a lot of time to play with here. We stall, and that window closes of opportunity closes. And if you don't do as they ask, _if_ they give us another opportunity, you know the demands will only be worse."

He didn't say anything. He couldn't. He knew he was right, but that didn't make it any better.

"Look, I can't tell you what to do, Tony. It's your decision here. I could ask Nat-"

"No. It has to be me," Tony muttered, shutting down that train of thought before it could go any further. "If it's not, it'll invalidate it and there's no point. I'm not going to let him be put through that for it to amount to absolutely nothing."

Steve nodded. Of course he'd known that, but he still had to offer. "Well, it's still your call. You know I'll back you either way. But whatever you do, you better be sure, Tony. There is no going back."

"Yeah, I know. Believe me." Tony ran a hand through his hair, turning back to the door. "I just… Yeah. Give me some time. And let me talk to the kid." He pushed it open and went inside, not bothering to check if Cap had followed him or not.

Peter was standing on the opposite side of the room, staring out the glass wall at the city. Tony took a steadying breath and walked over to him, wondering how on earth he could explain everything to him, but Peter spoke before he could figure it out.

"I heard it." He didn't take his eyes off the city in front of him.

Tony sighed, closing his eyes. "How much?"

"All of it."

"Of course," he muttered, feeling bitter and upset even though he wasn't quite sure at what. "Peter-"

"Don't." Peter sighed, and when he forced himself to open his eyes and look at him, he was looking over at him, those brown eyes all too old and knowing. "Don't tell me you don't want to hurt me, don't tell me you _won't_. I heard you and Captain Rogers and I heard the video. Don't make commitments to me. Don't feel guilty. You shouldn't. You're doing what you have to to get her back, and that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"That was the intention, but kid-" Tony stopped and shook his head. "I _don't_ want to hurt you. And I absolutely _refuse_ to do what they're asking."

"From what I heard, it wasn't asking. And don't think I'm weak just because I'm younger than you, Mr. Stark. I've been doing this for a while now too. I've had a lot of experience getting the hell beat out of me and much more. I admit I've managed to keep all my appendages up to this point, but-"

A distressed sound escaped from his throat before he could stop it. "_Stop_." He rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if even just the implication would ever not be enough to make him physically sick. "You're not seriously joking about this right now."

"No. I'm not. I'm serious." Peter turned and stepped up to him. His eyes were still red - suspiciously so, considering that should have started to go down by now, unless… "Look," Peter continued, cutting off his thoughts and forcing his gaze back to his. "I'm not stupid, Mr. Stark. And Captain America is right. If you don't do this now, whatever happens next - to me or to Wanda - is only going to be worse. You know that." He stepped a bit closer, so their chests were almost touching. "I told you before that I wasn't going to fight you. I meant it. It's not as if I have anything left to fight for." Peter stopped, swallowing hard and trying to steady his voice before speaking again. "What I can do is all I have left now. The least you could do is allow me to do it."

"Excuse me if I'm not willing to permanently maim you," Tony shot back. "Peter, what they're asking - that's _permanent_. I don't care what kind of freaky spider powers you have, that's… you can't just regrow a finger!"

There, he'd said it. God, it made him feel sick. It was the final thing in a list of torture they'd given him - which was enough to make his stomach twist on its own, but the idea of _cutting off the kid's finger_ was just… no. Too much. Never in a million years.

They wanted it as proof. That, and the clothes he was wearing. Video was all well and good, and they wanted that too, but video could be tampered with. They wanted to be able to affirm the blood on his clothes was real _and_ his. Wanted Tony to prove he was serious in a way he couldn't take back.

"No, but I _do_ have enhanced healing," Peter said, either mindless of Tony's inner turmoil or hiding it really well. "So the rest of the injuries I could heal easily. And I could get a prosthetic."

"A pros- that's not the point, kid!" Tony nearly shouted. He couldn't help himself, although he regretted it when Peter shrank visibly and took a quick step back. Tony took a breath to steady himself. For all the bravado and his desperation to trust him, Peter was still just a scared child. And the look of fear on his face when that bravado faltered was confirmation of exactly what Tony feared. He was absolutely terrified by these new developments. But even scarier than that was the fact that he still looked determined and completely serious.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the silence surrounding them tense. Then Peter looked away, crossing his arms uncomfortably. "Look, I… I don't like it, okay? I don't. And if you want the truth… yes. I'm scared. But I'm more scared of what's going to happen if you don't get Hydra to make the trade than the idea of getting roughed up and losing a finger." He didn't add that he was afraid of what would happen to them and to Wanda just as much as he was afraid of what would happen to him. He knew he wasn't getting a happy ending out of this either way. His relationship with his parents would never be the same, even if Hydra let him walk away from the whole scenario, which he doubted. They'd either take him back to experiment on or probably kill him to get rid of the possibility of him being used again in the future. He was a huge liability, as they had no doubt discovered. At least if he did this he knew the heroes would be back together and hopefully able to pick up keeping the city safe where he had left off.

Tony sighed, hanging his head. "Kid, I… I understand where you're coming from. Don't think I don't. I just… I honestly don't know if I can do that. Not to you, not to anyone." But especially not to him. Why? He didn't know. All he knew was that the thought made him especially queasy.

"You kill people all the time. Why is this different?" Peter asked quietly.

"Because..." He stopped, searching for a logical reason. Because he didn't know them. Because they weren't heroes. Because they were bad guys. Because they weren't innocent fifteen year old kids that looked at him with big puppy eyes and trusted him implicitly even though they were scared out of their wits and in a situation that shouldn't involve them and was way over their heads. "Because this isn't _necessary_," he finally settled on saying.

"You said it was before."

He still thought it was, but he didn't _want_ it to be. "We could find another way. We'll keep scouting, keep attacking, we have to come up with something eventually-"

"No, Mr. Stark." Peter looked at him, puppy eyes sad but serious. "I don't think you do."

Tony looked at him and then away again, sighing heavily. "Fine. You're right. But I don't _want_ to, kiddo." He stepped back up to him, closing the space he'd created when he stepped back. Now wasn't the time to be emotionally distant. He couldn't afford to be, and probably couldn't handle pretending to be when he clearly wasn't. He waited for Peter to step back, and when he didn't, he let himself reach for him, run his fingers through his hair again, gently, trying to soothe not only the boy but himself with the consistent, steady motion. "I need you to realize that. I need you to know the idea of so much as _threatening_ to do that to you makes my stomach twist. I can't fathom actually _doing_ it."

Peter leaned into his touch, never breaking eye contact with him. "I know. And I don't want you to have to, but… I want you to. And I want it to be _you_."

"It will be," Tony murmured. Not only because Hydra demanded it be, but because just as he'd thought before, he couldn't handle the idea of it being anyone else. He'd never forgive them and he'd still carry that with him forever. At least it was himself he'd never be able to forgive, this way; he was used to that feeling.

Speaking of feelings he wasn't used to…

Peter took him completely off guard when he crashed into him, wrapping those thin but strong arms around him again. This time, Tony could feel, his hands were in fists, careful not to stick to him again.

It took a full second for him to recover, then he was hugging him back, squeezing him tightly as the kid clung to him for dear life. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on the top of his head. God, he couldn't really do this, could he?

"I don't have to do this. Maybe I could do something else. Surprise them," he murmured, thinking aloud.

"Like what?" Peter asked without lifting his head from Tony's chest, his voice muffled by his shirt.

"Like… I don't know." He exhaled a long breath. He knew what he was thinking, but it was almost as horrible as the idea of permanently maiming him. "I'll think of something," he murmured.

They stayed like that for several minutes, until Peter finally pulled back, turning back to the window. He stood slightly sideways, and it didn't escape Tony's notice that he surreptitiously wiped his eyes once, but he didn't comment on it. Instead he let him have a moment before walking up and clapping him on the shoulder. "Nice view, right?"

Not trusting his voice for a second, Peter nodded.

Tony smiled a little, squeezing his shoulder. "You'll see it again. Come on." He tugged him into his side, walking towards the door.

Peter let him, but looked up at him with confusion. "Where are we going?"

"Well, all things considered, I think we're past the point of you trying to escape, and _if_ we go through with even half of this, it's going to be somewhere else. My workshop is equipped with a lot of things, but the tools or setup for that is not one of them." He keyed in the code to unlock the door. "Anyway, we should get some more food into you at the very least, maybe a real shower, then we'll consult with Capsicle about the game plan." He was purposefully trying to keep the conversation light, to keep their minds away from what was to come in the next few hours while they could. He wanted the kid in as good of spirits as possible for as long as possible.

Because it was coming, and soon. There was little he could do about that. The best he could hope for was to find a way out of the worst of it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone! Hope everyone is doing okay!**

**First of all, I just want to apologize for the delays on my writing recently; I know I warned everyone, but I've just started college, and between that happening and generally having some struggles plot-wise with a few of these before that, stuff has been incredibly slow, and I'm sorry. **

**Second, not exactly happy with the quality of this chapter/how it turned out, but honestly I don't think it's going to get much better, so, here it is. There is some torture in this chapter, but instead of doing it in all its gorey details, which I felt would be a bit too intense for the vibe I was going for with this story, I decided to write Peter's (read: hazy and incomplete) thoughts during the process instead. Might be a bit hard to read, still, but not gorey or descriptive of the acts themselves at all. **

**Third, I would just like to note to any of my Internship readers, I'm sorry for the wait, but I am so close to having the next chapter done, and it'll be out soon. I just don't want the story to suffer and I've been chewing for a long time over how /what order things are going to proceed in, so, yeah, it's taking a while, sorry. **

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this! Love you all 3000!**

_Click_.

It was cold, and hard, but Peter closed his eyes and didn't look, didn't _move_. He couldn't.

_Click_.

A second cuff. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to hold it, to not make any more noise that might give away his fear.

He failed.

"Peter…" Stark was in front of him again, tilting his head up with careful hands. Stark's dark, intense eyes bored into his for a moment before he had to drop his gaze, and he heard him sigh. "Come on, kid. If you freak out on me now-"

"I'm not freaking out," he lied, his voice unsteady. "Not- not at what you think. It's just the feeling of being restrained again." It was partially true, at least.

Stark wasn't convinced. He looked down and made a low rumbling sound, deep in his chest, and was quiet for a moment before he said decidedly, "I can't do this."

"Mr. Stark-" Peter started. His feet hadn't been cuffed yet, just his wrists, and he used the advantage of still being on the ground to leverage his weight back, tugging his hands away from Stark's own as he tried to free him. "You _have _to."

"No, I definitely don't." Stark reached for him again, pulling the keys out of his pocket. "I'll find another way. They'll understand-"

He unlocked one of Peter's wrists, and Peter seized his opportunity and grabbed the elder hero's arm before he could move on to the other hand. "Mr. Stark, listen to me. I told you, I don't want to do this either, okay? But we can't afford not to. It'll only get worse for all of us if you don't. They'll torture her worse, and I'm sure whatever happens to me will be be ten times worse-" he didn't specify at whose hand, because he wasn't even sure himself, "-and you and Cap will be feeling even more guilty and it'll be harder for you guys to find her. You just- you just need to do it."

Stark stared at him for a moment, then shook his head again, but slower this time. "No. I can't. I shouldn't have even brought you into this. You're innocent, clearly. You've done nothing wrong. You don't deserve-"

"Does she?" His voice was so quiet that he wouldn't have heard it if they weren't so close.

"_What_?" Stark reared back, looking surprised.

"Does she? Deserve it, I mean." Peter looked at him, biting his lip.

Tony stared at the kid. His mind threw out the immediate answer - _she's made mistakes, we all have, but of course not, no one deserves that_ \- but he couldn't get it past his lips as he stared at the wide eyed kid before him. There was that contrast again. He was a kid, one who was very obviously scared shitless, but who spoke like he was so much older than his meager fifteen years. Again Tony wondered how much he had already been through to be able to respond like he was in this situation, but he pushed the thought away quickly, unable to face it for too long. "No, but Peter-"

"Then what does it matter?" Peter interrupted, not bothering to let him finish. He already knew what he was going to try to say. "If everything you've said is true, then it doesn't matter, Mr. Stark. Nothing they want you to do to me compares to half of what she's already been through. If I can take a little pain to spare somebody else from it, I'll do it in a heartbeat. I would do it if this wasn't the situation and if I knew it was even a remote possibility. It's what I do as Spider-Man all the time. Just because you don't know about it doesn't mean it hasn't happened. It's what we're supposed to do as heroes, right?"

Unexpectedly flustered by that argument, Tony had to stop for a moment as he chewed over the kid's words. "Right," he finally conceded, after a long pause. "I… suppose so." He stepped back up and clicked the cuff back around Peter's wrist. "But kid…"

"I know. You don't want to. I don't want to, either, but… we need to." Peter chewed his lip, staying silent as Tony knelt to guide his ankles into the cuffs and snap them into place.

It had been a few hours since they'd left Tony's workshop. Cap hadn't even been surprised to see him emerge with the kid. He had, however, been surprised when they sat down and decided what the game plan was.

There'd been talk of trying to fake it, but it just wasn't worth entertaining for long. There was little doubt that Hydra would DNA test the finger. There was no feasible way to fake it with Peter's real DNA, especially since there was no telling what it looked like after the experiments they'd done on the kid. Dr. Banner was the only one qualified to do that kind of testing, and even if he de-Hulked himself right then, it would take too long to get back the results, let alone have a shot at making a replica. Technology for that was barely in existence anyway, and definitely not quick enough or reliable enough to risk trying to use it.

The torture bit Tony was sure they could have faked, but again, there was the risk of Hydra being able to tell, what with them having access to probably a similar level of technology to theirs, and Peter had insisted they just go through with it. Considering the permanent maiming involved, what was a little more pain? Besides, he had pressed, he had advanced healing, and trying to integrate fake torture to video of him actually cutting off his finger was just an unnecessary risk.

The worst part about the situation for Tony - aside from the finger thing - was the fact he couldn't even give the kid anything. He'd explained to him - privately, of course; they still weren't telling Cap about the Spider-Man thing, for reasons still unfathomable to him - that his metabolism was about as crazy as his healing factor, and there was no happy medium with drugs. Regular stuff wouldn't work for him. Heavy stuff wouldn't do a whole lot for him either, and he'd burn it off too quick for it to do much. It would take some real hard stuff to have an effect, and a lot of it; and more than likely, enough of it to actually have any effect would probably knock him out, which definitely wasn't going to be okay in this scenario, as much as Tony wished he could just put him to sleep and maybe even pretend the whole thing was a bad dream when it was over.

Sometime in the midst of all this discussing someone had whipped up a real meal and forced him to eat while they dealt with the preparations. Peter complied without complaint. He was hungry, and he knew he would need the strength.

Preparations took longer than he expected, and he wasn't quite sure when he'd wandered from the kitchen to the living area, nor when he'd fallen asleep on the couch in there. Hell, he had no idea how much time had actually passed, but it seemed like none at all before Tony was standing over him, shaking him gently awake.

They'd given him plenty of time to get up and get his bearings before bringing him in here. And honestly, Peter felt better than he had in weeks. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. And despite his fear, he had no doubts about what was going to happen, what he'd asked Stark to do. He would be okay, he was sure. For at least as long as he was here. He was more worried about what would come after this than anything they could throw at him.

"When I tell Jarvis to start recording, there's no going back." It was the first time Tony spoke in a long few minutes since chaining Peter up. He glanced up in surprise and saw the elder man leaning against the wall, carefully masking everything he was feeling as he studied Peter. "Are you absolutely sure you're willing to go through with this? I swear, kid, say the word and I'll try anything else." He almost sounded like he was pleading with Peter for him to do so, instead of the other way around.

Peter shook his head. "No. I'm sure." He bit his lip, knowing on it for a moment before adding, "You don't look sure, though."

"I'm not," Stark admitted, so quietly Peter might not have heard were it not for his heightened senses. "But I guess… I just don't know what else to do." He sounded like he was admitting defeat or submitting to something absolutely horrible. He kind of was.

"It's alright, Mr. Stark," Peter murmured, keeping his volume about the same level as the older hero's. "Just… when it's over…" his voice wavered for the first time, and he had to stop.

"When it's over, I'll do whatever you want," Stark promised, and looking at him, into his dark eyes, Peter knew he was completely serious.

He nodded slowly, just once. "Okay." He didn't know what else to say.

Stark stepped up and ran a gentle hand through his hair, one more time. Peter's eyes dropped automatically to the two strips of fabric in the hero's other hand, still dangling at his side, but Stark moved them out of view and tilted Peter's head back up. "You with me?"

His eyes snapped up as they disappeared from sight. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

A gentle tug to his curls. "Are you sure about this?"

"That's like the tenth time you've asked me." But he was glad, secretly, that it mattered, that he had the chance. He swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. "But yeah."

"Are you ready?"

_As I'll ever be_, was his immediate thought, but he had enough sense to realize if he said that Stark would probably back out of it for him not saying he was completely certain. "Yes. Let's just get on with it, Mr. Stark."

"Alright, kid." His voice was so gentle and regretful Peter almost reconsidered his decision and backed out there and then. But his eyes fluttered closed as Stark tied the blindfold in place with extreme care, followed by the gag. And Peter just let him, ducking his head and opening his mouth obediently, letting Stark do what he had to do.

A hand ruffled his curls once more, then gently caressed its way down to his cheek, cupping his face for a moment before dropping away. "Roll it, Jarvis," Mr. Stark whispered.

And then everything became a blur, and it was hours before he could refocus on anything besides pain.

..._Huh..._

_...This isn't so bad..._

_...Is he pulling his punches?_

_...Okay, that one hurt…_

_...I forgot he had to use the gauntlets…_

_...Oops, I didn't mean to make that sound… Sorry, Mr. Stark…_

_...Shit, that was a loud snap…_

_...That was a rib, definitely…_

_...Or two... _

_...okay, maybe three… _

_...And there goes a kneecap, I know that feeling…_

_...Nothing worse than a street fight…_

_...Now it's worse. God, I forgot about that…_

_...Lashes hurt worse than being hit with a crowbar, who would've thought… _

_...Don't cry, Peter, what's wrong with you? You're making it worse on everyone…_

_...But I can't stop… _

_...God, it hurts…_

_...Okay, that's a knife, but knives are nothing you haven't dealt with before…_

_...owowowow… _

_...Okay, so knives are worse when over already hurt areas, who knew…_

_...Breathe, Parker, panicking isn't helping your cause…_

_...Hard with a hand on your throat, but..._

…_Ignore what he's saying, remember, it's for the camera…_

_...you can do this, you can do this…_

_...Remember what you said…_

_...Quickly, please be quick…_

_...Don't tell me to calm down, you know I can't, you know you'll ruin the footage…_

_...Quickquickquick… _

_...breathebreathebreathe…_

_...I can't breathe, why can't I breathe… _

_...chest hurts…_

_...nonononono…_

_...stop, please stop-_

_...You're saying it outloud, Parker, you stop before-_

_...painpainpainpainpain-_

_...is that me screaming?_

_...I can't feel it anymore…_

_...I can't hear Mr. Stark anymore…_

_...are we done?_

_...I'm sorry, Mr. Stark..._


	11. Chapter 11

**Is anyone else wondering how we're already to 11 chapters of this craziness? I went to post this and I was like "whoa, wait..." That said, it feels like we're getting close to the end, but don't be completely fooled! The switch will probably happen within the next two chapters, but we have at least five more to go of the main plot, I'd say. Who the hell knows what'll happen after that; if you guys want to see more by that point, then perhaps I'll see what I can do. Also, I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who's been reading and reviewing, but even more than that, all of you who felt the need to stand up to this story to some of the flames I've gotten. I've definitely gotten some flame before, but I've never had my readers have such a response to it, so... yeah, just a huge thank you for all the support. It really made my heart happy, so thanks for that! :D Now, I'll let you get to the story... I love you all 3000, and I hope you enjoy! **

Hours later, Peter slowly started to resurface into consciousness.

He groaned, trying to turn his head and finding that it was pounding, and felt like he may as well be trying to move a slab of concrete. A groan escaped him again, and he stopped, trying to decide what to do. He was vaguely aware of the world around him through the haze of pain in his whole body. There were voices - definitely voices, but he couldn't make them out…

Concentrating, he managed to crack one eye open, then the other.

For a second, the whole world was blurry. He blinked a few times, and slowly things came back into focus.

He was in a bedroom, from the looks of it, but it may as well have been a hospital room, what with all the equipment surrounding him. He tried to sit up and realized with no small amount of horror that something was shoved into his chest, limiting his range of movement even more than through the pain. He couldn't see it under the blankets, but it felt like… like…

He ripped the blankets off of him, staring at the tube disappearing into his ribs. He reached for it, heart pounding-

A strong hand grabbed his wrist, and another set of hands was on his shoulders, leveraging him back to the bed as they pulled the blankets back over him. Peter didn't struggle against the grip, feeling entirely too weak to do so, but looked up at who had ahold of him.

It was Captain America who'd grabbed his wrist. The elder hero smiled gently at him. "Hey kiddo. How are we feeling?"

Peter didn't answer right away, looking over the see who was on his other side. To his surprise, it was a woman; one he hadn't seen before. She was tall and had stunning red curls that were rather messy at the moment, and her one arm was in a sling across her chest while the other pressed down on his shoulder, but even she smiled at him.

"That's Nat," Captain America told him. "The Black Widow. She's a friend."

Peter swallowed hard. He knew who Black Widow was; he'd just never seen her before in any way that wasn't through a screen. "Uh… hi," he managed. His throat felt like sandpaper, and he had to stop again.

"Hello, Peter. I'm glad to see you awake," Widow said kindly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Um… how long was I…" Peter stopped again, noticing the look the two Avengers exchanged.

"It's... been about a day," Cap admitted quietly, looking away. He'd let his wrist drop as soon as he'd calmed down. "Things went a little sideways, kiddo. We thought we were going to lose you for a while."

"Lose me? But that wasn't… I mean, I've taken worse. Most of it wasn't even that bad," Peter said, his brows drawn together.

Cap sighed, looking pained. It was Black Widow who continued. "Peter, Tony broke several of your ribs," she told him.

He frowned. "I know that. We figured that would happen."

She gave him a long look, as if weighing how she wanted to phrase the next part. "A few of them... punctured your lungs," she explained softly, and it took a minute for the meaning of that to sink in.

"Oh. _Oh_," Peter breathed. He looked down at the tube in his chest, and something clicked. "So the chest pain… I _actually_ couldn't breathe." He hadn't just been panicking.

Widow looked pained, but she nodded her head. "Your right lung collapsed. The left had a small perforation as well, but luckily we got to you in time to keep that one from collapsing too. Tony realized what happened and-"

Peter felt his stomach drop, and he didn't even hear her finish, mind reeling. He did _not_ just go through that for nothing, did he? Stark finished the video. He had to. He wouldn't have just stopped… would he?

Only one way to be sure…

He lifted his hand from under the blankets, slowly, feeling himself trembling, and nearly cried, although with relief or horror he wasn't even sure.

Only gauze remained where his left pinky should be.

His panic eased a little at the sight. They'd done it. If nothing else, they'd accomplished their goal. The guy on the video had said that they would be able to negotiate a meeting if Mr. Stark did it - so they were that much closer to getting Wanda back. He felt some of the knot in his chest ease.

"-working on fixing it," Black Widow was saying, apparently thinking his panic was about losing his finger. "Tony has some ideas-"

"Where is he?" Peter interrupted. He knew it was rude - and dangerous - to interrupt her, but he wanted to see him, _needed_ to see him. He wanted to know what was going on, and make sure the elder man wasn't beating himself to hell and back for what had happened, which if he knew anything about him, it was that he certainly was.

Cap sighed. "He… didn't want to leave you, but he needed had to go do the drop before time ran out. He should be back anytime."

Peter nodded, letting his head fall back against the pillows. Now that all his emotion had all drained away, he was just left feeling exhausted. "When he gets back…"

"He'll be right in," Cap promised. "Get some rest, kiddo."

And just like that, Peter was out.

Tony really hadn't wanted to leave the kid's side.

The drop had gone well enough - there weren't any nasty surprises there, at least. But he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Peter.

He couldn't believe what he'd almost done. He'd heard the kid start choking on his own blood, heard him freaking out and begging him to stop, and he just… hadn't. Why would he? They'd talked extensively before he'd chained him up. Peter had told him to ignore anything he said, because he knew he might not be able to help himself if the pain got to be too much for him. And when you're gagged and everything comes out muffled, the words "please" and "breathe" sound awfully alike. He almost hadn't noticed until it was too late that Peter was saying that he couldn't breathe.

Well, by his definition, it had definitely been too late. The kid had blacked out before he realized it, but… at least he'd realized what had happened before he'd gone and _died_ on him.

Even now, he flinched at the thought. The worst part was, he didn't even know _why_.

Sure, he'd never really wanted to hurt anybody. That was exactly why he'd become Iron Man in the first place - he'd found out the weapons he made were hurting innocent people, and he didn't like it. But what he felt for Peter was a different level than just not wanting him to be hurt because of him. He didn't want him to be hurt at all. And unlike the Avengers, this wasn't some professional courtesy. Dissimilar to Wanda, it wasn't just because he was a kid or because he was being affected by something they'd been trying to take down. It wasn't because the kid was Spider-Man, either.

No, he wanted to protect him, and now that he looked back on it, he felt like he had since he'd first seen him in the sandwich shop in Queens. He genuinely cared about Peter, in a way he really hadn't genuinely cared about anyone since realizing how he felt about Pepper.

And now he had to hand him back over to those demons.

He groaned as the tower came into sight in the distance, and he swooped in for a landing.

Peter spent the next day in and out of consciousness, never fully waking, unaware that he was being held in a semi-unconscious state by the humongous dose of pain meds they'd given him while he was asleep.

"How is he?"

"He woke up once, but he didn't have the strength to stay awake long. Nat and I managed to keep him from trying to rip the chest tube out and explained the gist of it before he passed out again."

"Jesus _Christ_. Why…?" A hand smoothed over his brow, fingers running gently through the top of his curls.

"I don't know why he was trying to rip the tube out, but…" a pause. "He was asking for you."

The hand in his hair stilled. "Oh. He… he shouldn't be."

"Well he is. We gave him some of my meds for pain, but with his metabolism being so unpredictable, he could wake up again at any point." A pause. "Just… let me know if you need anything, alright?"

"You betcha, Capsicle… Thanks."

"Of course."

"I really fucked up, Pep."

"Well I'll say." A pause. "You fucked up by bringing him into it at all, but for what it's worth… you handled it really well, Tony."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." He was conscious enough this time to be sure the male voice was Mr. Stark's, although he had no idea who the other was. It sounded like he was trying to be bitter, but was so weary he couldn't manage it.

"Of course I do. I have equal access to Friday, Tony. I saw the footage."

"Oh. _Oh_… _All_ the footage?"

"Yes. All the footage." A moment of silence. "You made the right decision, Tony. I'll admit this wasn't your best plan ever, but given what we had to work with, and… he was on board. He's young, but he's not stupid."

"I know. God, I know. I just…"

"Have an alarming tendency to let your heart get ahead of your head? Yes, you definitely do."

"I care about him, Pep. I don't know when it even happened, I just… God, I don't want to hand him over. Not to Hydra, not even to his goddamn _parents_."

"And here I thought you didn't want kids."

"I didn't- I mean, I don't. I shouldn't even be considering-..." a shuddering breath. "Just- Just _look_ at what I _did_ to him, Pep! _This_ is exactly why I can't. Everyone who associates with me gets hurt. You, Hogan, Rhodey, even some of the Avengers, now this kid, and he didn't even try to. I can't wish that on anyone else. Especially another person who doesn't get a choice."

"I know, Tony." A pause. "Come on. Let's get you to bed, hm?"

"But the kid-"

"Someone will stay with him. You need to rest."

He finally surfaced for good that evening.

It was like waking up the first time again; his whole body felt like lead, and he knew it was going to take an enormous amount of effort to crack his eyes open. His tongue felt like a lead weight in his dry mouth, but he managed to get out, "M...Mr-"

"Hey! Right here, kiddo, don't strain yourself. Hold on." There was a beat of silence, then a straw was being pressed into his mouth. It was like a warped twist from the first time he'd woken up in Stark's workshop; he couldn't see, his body ached all over, and Mr. Stark was forcing him to drink something to soothe his dry as sandpaper throat. Except this time, he knew why he was so achy, he was sure what was being poured down his throat now was just water, not whatever weird concoction the last had been, and the reason he couldn't see was because cracking his eyes open was going to take more energy than he had mustered up to this point, not because he was blindfolded.

Speaking of which… he concentrated hard and managed to crack one eye open, then the other. Mr. Stark was standing over him, looking just as exhausted and worried as he'd sounded earlier. He dutifully swallowed all the water Stark poured into his mouth, which seemed to be most of the glass, and just like last time, felt all the clearer for it. "Thanks," he mumbled, and couldn't stop himself from cracking a slight smile.

Stark seemed to realize what he was thinking and offered him a small smile in return. "Sure." Then he set the cup down and dropped the smile, hesitating before running a gentle hand through Peter's curls. "How are you feeling, bud?"

"Fine," he lied. Stark narrowed his eyes at him again, but Peter simply acted like he didn't notice. "How did it go? Have you heard from them yet? Did it work?"

Stark sighed, letting his hand fall away and looking away from him, as if it pained him to do so any longer. "Yes, it worked. We have an agreement. Our meeting is in three days."

"Three days?" Peter couldn't hide his surprise.

Stark sighed, and it sounded pained. "Did you want to make the switch as you are? Bruce is throwing a fit about the idea of letting you out of the infirmary even that soon, but with your healing factor, you should be okay enough by then. Anyway, they were the ones who made that offer. I know that sooner is better, for all of us, but I wasn't turning you over like this. Honestly…" He hesitated, and Peter's heart nearly stopped at his next words. "Honestly, Peter, I don't want to turn you over at all."

Peter just stared at him for a moment, unable to wrap his head around what he'd just said. "But… you have to."

"You keep saying that. I don't think you realize that I don't really have to do anything I don't want to do." Stark tilted his head, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Kid, I know it's a bad situation, and these were… not good circumstances to meet in, and if you really never want to see any of us again, that's… totally within your rights. But I really don't like the idea of handing you over to those psychos. I just…" He stopped again and took a breath, as if to steady himself. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I need you to know that there's always a spot for you with- with the Avengers. And if you wanted to take up that spot… say, now… there's nothing stopping you from doing that."

Tony stared at the kid, praying he'd understand everything he was trying to say, all the things he really should just be putting out there and yet physically couldn't. It took everything he had to say "with the Avengers," and not "here" or "with me," and just as much to manage to not basically tell him that he could decide to stay or walk out right now and if it weren't for the machines attached to him, Tony wouldn't have tried to stop him.

Peter heard the hidden meaning in his words, he was sure of it. He watched as realization flashed first in the teen's eyes, followed by gratefulness and something that could have been sadness or pity, he wasn't sure. "I… will keep that in mind, for the future," he said quietly. "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Stark."

He was saying no, and they both knew it. As much as that killed him inside, he had to respect it. At least for now.

No matter what Peter had decided to do, he had no intention of letting him stay in the hands of those monsters for long. But if he wanted to make the swap, then that was what they would do. Even if it killed him inside.

"Alright," he conceded. "Well, let's get you on the path to getting better then, huh? Starting with food." He stood up. "Anything in particular you want?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm not picky."

"Alright." Tony walked to the door, then paused, looking back at the kid and taking a breath. "I'll go tell them that then. But if you change your mind, at any point, let me know." He threw a meaningful look back at him, and they both knew he wasn't just talking about the food.

Peter met his eyes and nodded silently, just once. Tony took the cue for what it was, leaving without another word. Clearly there was nothing left to say here.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter didn't see Mr. Stark again at all that day.

He did have food brought into him, but it wasn't Stark who did it. It was Bruce, when he came to check on him. The doctor explained at his questioning that he'd been Hulked out most of the time Peter had been there, and had only been able to return to his normal self once Natasha had gotten out of the infirmary and helped him talk things through with the big guy. This just so happened to be only an hour or so before Peter had nearly died, and so the first thing that he'd done when he'd finally stepped out of his little containment area was set to work on him. He sat and talked with him while he ate, then checked him over once before leaving with his empty tray.

All the other Avengers slowly cycled in to see him as well. Cap and Widow came back in to check on him, and he met Hawkeye and Falcon for the first time as well - Clint and Sam, they'd both insisted he call them. Only Stark never made an appearance.

Peter was kind of glad, though. He knew what the elder man was doing - giving him space, letting him fully consider the weight of everything he'd offered him earlier. And while Peter was grateful, and he was sure Stark would follow through if he wanted him to, he also knew that the offers stemmed more from guilt over bringing him into this and over hurting him than anything. If they actually wanted him to join the Avengers, they would have sought him out as Spider-Man. They hadn't, and all things considered, he agreed with that decision. Clearly he wasn't ready to deal with something of this scale, let alone a real threat.

It was lunch time the next day before he saw him again. Peter was eating his lunch when he looked up and realized Mr. Stark was leaning against the doorway, watching him. "Uh… hi?"

"Hey, kid. Feeling better today?" Stark greeted, walking over and settling on the edge of the bed near his feet.

"Much," Peter said, and this time he meant it. He was still tired and weak, but his improvement was rapid and considerable.

Stark smiled a little. "So… it occurred to me that I owe you a phone call." He reached in his pocket, pulling out his phone and sliding it across the collapsible table Peter was using. "And then it occurred to me that I'm an ass, and where you are, and, well… if I happen to have things I need to do that I can't come back until tonight and you were to make more than one call… who would be the wiser?"

Peter stared at the phone in front of him for a moment, feeling amazed and not sure _why_ entirely he's so surprised. Whatever he was expecting when Stark came back, it wasn't this. His eyes snapped back up to Stark's. "Mr. Stark, I can't-"

"Well, neither can I, because I have things to do," Stark announced, standing up. "I'll be back for dinner, kid. Have a ball." And with that, he walked out the door again, not even giving Peter a chance to respond.

Peter picked up the phone slowly. It was already on, and a quick glance confirmed that Stark had to have charged the battery, because it was completely full. He wasn't messing with him, apparently. He really had free reign.

Some part of him had the thought that this really had to be the weirdest situation he'd ever managed to get himself into, and it wasn't even because he was Spider-Man, this time. This whole thing was just insane.

Still, he had to admit the idea of calling someone was… tempting. Incredibly so. And he had been promised at least one phone call before, even if he only made one. But who to call?

He could try to call either of his parents, he supposed, but if he was being honest, he didn't really want to. The idea of speaking to them wasn't as comforting as it might have once been. Did they know what was going on? Would they tell him the truth if they did, if he confronted them about it? Or would he only get more lies? He didn't know, and honestly, he was too exhausted to want to try to puzzle it out. He would know exactly how much they knew and how much they cared mainly by whether or not they were at the exchange. If so, they obviously knew what was going on, and about Wanda, even if they didn't know about what Hydra had done to him. And honestly, what else would they talk about, if he called? He couldn't see any way of making that call without having a confrontation, and he just wasn't willing to deal with it.

That narrowed his choices down by a lot. He didn't have much else for family. He had even less for friends, but…

He knew exactly who he wanted to talk to.

He dialed the phone and held his breath until the other line picked up, and tears pricked his eyes when he heard the other male's voice. He sounded hoarse when he spoke, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Ned, you're never going to believe what happened…"

Tony wasn't actually busy.

He just knew the kid was going to need privacy. He deserved it - or at least the pretense of it. Plus, he really needed to kill the urge to hover over him continually, for both their sakes.

He settled for watching from a distance instead.

He had to admit, he hadn't expected the kid's first choice for a phone call - and, as it followed, for potential comfort - to be another kid. He'd honestly expected him to try to call his parents, or at least one of them. Maybe even a different family member he was close with. He knew he had an aunt in the area. But that wasn't the case, surprisingly.

Of course, he'd looked through his phone before giving it back, and it went without saying that he'd tapped it. He was going to know what happened to him after this. He was going to watch for him, and he was definitely going to make sure no one, especially Hydra, managed to get their hands on him again. If that meant invading Peter's privacy a little… well, he already knew the kid's biggest secrets now anyway. What could it really hurt?

"Ned, you're never going to believe what happened," he heard Peter say, and his gut twisted at how hoarse and broken the kid sounded, as if he was already barely holding it together.

"Peter?" another male voice asked. It was a bit louder than Peter's, the pitch a bit higher, and on the screen, Peter sagged visibly at the sound. "Oh my _God_, Peter, where have you _been_? You haven't been to school in like a week and you just disappeared and I couldn't even track you or anything and the school was like trying to get ahold of your parents and couldn't and- just, where the hell are you? Are you _okay_? Cause if you got stuck doing some Spider-Man stuff and you need help or something you know you're supposed to let me _know _and I would have figured out a way to come get you-"

"Ned. _Ned_," Peter broke in. His voice cracked a little, and Tony glanced back at the security and saw him wiping his eyes, even though he was smiling just a little bit. "Look, man, I can't really tell you much right now. It _is _Spider-Man related, sort of, but it's just… really complicated, and I'm-" He stopped, taking a minute to steady himself. "It's just nice to talk to you again," he whispered.

Ned was quiet on the other line for a long minute. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost hesitant. "Peter, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay," Peter assured him quietly. "It's… it's just been crazy, and I… I don't know when I'll be home, honestly. This… might be the only time you hear from me for a while."

"Why? What's going on?" Ned demanded.

Tony couldn't echo the sentiment more. Okay, it would be another day before the switch, and he had to take the phone back as much for security reasons as to make sure Peter was focusing on healing and not being on it all the time, but… the kid was going back to his parents as the swap. That was the deal he'd made… right?

"I told you, I can't tell you, Ned. I'm sorry. Look, just- can we talk about other stuff?" Peter pleaded. "I don't have a lot of time. I just want to be distracted for a little while."

There was silence on the other end for another long minute. "Okay," Ned finally answered, slowly, as if giving Peter a chance to take the words back. "We can do that. Just- you know you can trust me, right? If you don't want to tell me the situation, fine, but you can tell me if you're not okay. I know you don't like to talk about it, but if this is like last time-"

"It's _not_ like last time," Peter interrupted, the sudden vehemence in his voice nearly overruling how broken it was. "I promise it's _not_. I wouldn't be calling you if it was. It's just a dumb mission, Ned - you know how I can get too far into things when they're away, and I just need to ride this one out to finish it, so communication is… hard. I just need a break, okay? Please just talk to me."

Ned relented. Tony leaned back in his seat, running his hands through his hair and still half listening as they talked about anything and everything they could to not talk about Peter.

He wasn't as surprised now that Peter had called him instead of someone else. He sounded like a good friend, and Tony was glad he had chosen to call him, because if he hadn't, he didn't think he'd have given away near as much. He was a bit surprised that the other kid knew about Spider-Man, but maybe he shouldn't have been. Everyone needed someone to share a burden that big with. It didn't bother him that this kid was it for Peter; it was a good choice, if their conversation was any indication.

Ned kept casually attempting to get Peter to tell him what was going on, to give away some pieces of information, but Peter wasn't budging. And _that_ bothered Tony. Because he felt comfortable sharing everything else with him, so if there was something he was hiding now… well, there was a few reasons that could be, and he didn't like any of them; but there was one in particular that was sticking, backed up especially by his phrasing and his hesitations.

Peter thought he was saying goodbye.

And that thought did not sit well with Tony. The worst part was that he didn't know _why_. He was going _home_. Sure, home with with Hydra agents for parents, but they didn't seem to have abused him up to that point, although if Peter's words and activities were any indication, they did seem to not be around much. But he was fifteen; he was more than capable of staying home alone, so there was nothing really wrong with that. Even if Tony didn't like the idea of sending him back to them.

But it wasn't like he could just call social services. He had no proof of their illegal activities without divulging information he couldn't give them, and like he'd noted, Peter wasn't being abused in any way to merit even an investigation opening. And the idea of uprooting the kid from his life to put his parents away… of what could happen to him then… would he really do it, even if he could find a way?

It didn't matter. His hands were tied, at least on that matter.

But what could Peter think was going to happen to him? And what was this "last time" that Ned kept referencing?

It took several minutes and more prying on Ned's part for it to click.

Last time. Peter had told him about it. He meant when he was kidnapped last time by Hydra. Could that be what he was referencing, and what he thought was going to happen to him when he got out of here? Did he really think Tony would allow that?

Did he have a reason to believe he wouldn't?

The kids ended up talking for well over two hours. Peter masterfully dodged most of Ned's questions, much to Ned and Tony's seemingly equal dismay.

By the time they hung up, Tony felt even more guilty and conflicted than before. Peter looked like he felt better, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, even if the conflict in him was still clearly there. Considering what he'd heard, he wasn't sure if he should count this as a win or not.

Peter was insistent on doing the switch. But why, if he really thought that it would end in a way for him that was so bad that he won't be seeing Ned again? Tony had no idea. It only made him more determined for that _not _to happen.

He'll protect Peter. One way or another, he would. He owed that kid that, at least.

Now he just had to find a way to follow through.


	13. Chapter 13

**Bum bum bum! I'm back! For a while, at least. It make take me a few days to get back into an upload schedule, but I'm hoping to jump back into my Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday schedule while I'm home on Christmas break. I may only be able to do two of the three a week, but I'm gonna try. So. Yeah. I'm back!**

**And what a time to be back! It sucks that I dropped off at this point, but we're back, and this is the LAST CHAPTER OF PART ONE! Next chapter we start Part Two, and I'm super excited for all the whump and fluff that comes with! Make your predictions now, cause shit is gonna get real the next few chapters.**

**HUGE thanks to everyone who has been reading, subscribing, commenting, asking for updates, etc! I love you all 3000. I may disappear again when school starts up again, but never count me out! I'm not gone, just drowning in a double major! But for now, I'm here, and we're going to get back on track for a little while before I become sporadic again. So for now, enjoy!**

The last few days went by quickly.

Tony tried to talk to Peter several times. Every time, the kid dodged his questions, or gave him half-assed answers, or redirected his attention somewhere else. Tony noticed every time, but there was little he could do. The only constant in their conversations was their avoidance of what was to come, and the fact that Peter continually insisted that they had to go through with it, and that he would be fine, with a tired half-smile that did nothing to hide the fact that he knew he was lying.

It made Tony want to pull his hair out, but his hands were tied. It was a bad situation or a worse situation, and he simply didn't have the time to come up with a better solution in the day and a half they had left than to go through with the switch and follow up to make sure the kid got home safe.

This whole scenario was a fiasco. Definitely high on the list of worst decisions he'd ever made. Goal achieved, yes, but at what cost?

He was about to find out.

_Click._

Peter winced, both at the sound, and the discomfort associated with it. He had mostly recovered over the course of the three days - or had recovered enough, at least, for them to decide he was well enough off to do the switch. He was still tender, and powers or no, he wasn't sure how long it would take for the scars on his side to fade, if they ever did. Bruce assured him the pain in his side should fade after a while. He just needed to be careful, and not overexert himself for the next little bit.

Peter had agreed, even though he knew he wouldn't have much choice in what he'd be doing with himself for a while, if ever again. Hydra would have him back in their clutches, and he would have to deal with it. If he survived whatever they had planned - a second round of experimentations, most likely - then he'd likely still just be a test subject. If by some miracle they let him go again, life wouldn't just go on the same way. They'd use him against the Avengers at any chance they could, because he'd been in contact with them. He'd resist, of course, but that didn't always mean much. And on the off chance that that worked, his parents still knew what had happened, or at least they would shortly. Lord only knew what kind of new rules he'd have in place now. Being Spider-Man was likely not going to be feasible any longer, between them and the fact that once Hydra found out what his powers were, surely they'd put two and two together, and then-

"Sorry, Peter." Bruce's voice brought him back to the present, pulling out of the dark spiral of his thoughts. The doctor sounded guilty as he adjusted the handcuffs he'd clicked around the teen's wrists. "I know this has to hurt, and believe me when I say I warned against it, but-"

"But there could be spies for Hydra anywhere," Captain America completed. He offered Peter a small, sad smile. "Sorry, kid. The metal is real, too. We don't know how much they know, which is precisely why we have to keep up appearances."

"It's fine. Honestly. Just slightly uncomfortable," Peter assured, even though it was more than slightly uncomfortable and he was decidedly not fine. But if he gave any of them even the slightest hint of that, they'd never go through with the switch. They wouldn't get Wanda back, or someone would get hurt in the process of getting her back, and it would be his fault. And for what? It wasn't like he was worth much. He certainly couldn't make up for the loss of any of the Avengers in any respect. He was just a stupid kid.

They were only being nice to him because they felt guilty, he reminded himself. Tony's offer - one of likely salvation, but he didn't let himself consider that - was only because he felt guilty, for abducting him and especially for nearly killing him. But Peter didn't blame any of them. He was far less important in the grand scheme of things - and far more expendable.

They were still at the tower, for a minute. They were about to head out to the spot the switch was going to be - the same place, apparently, that Tony had made the drop off. Cap seemed to think that they had chosen that place specifically because it was so far out of the way there was little way for the Avengers to double cross them successfully. Tony thought it was more for spite, since it just so happened to be the same place that they had gotten their asses handed to them not that long before.

As per Hydra's demands, Peter was going to fly over with Tony, and Cap and everyone else would stay in the Quinjet, waiting in the wings to be backup if something were to go wrong. Peter doubted anything would. Hydra wanted him back, and if that meant giving up Wanda to get him, they'd do it. That wasn't to say that they might not come back for her again later, but apparently somebody had decided he was valuable enough to give her up and risk the inconvenience of having to abduct her again if they decided later they wanted her back as well.

They all loaded in the jet. Even the newly recovered Avengers were coming, though they were supposed to stay out of direct combat if at all possible. Nat had gotten rid of her sling, and if Clint was still wearing any of his braces or bandages, it was hidden under his combat gear. Peter was sure neither of them were really completely healed, nor were they probably actually cleared to be there, but who was going to try to make either of them stay behind? Not even Cap or Tony dared to contest them.

The ride there was tense. Conversations were in low whispers, if not completely silent. As all things do when you're dreading them, the plane ride seemed to go incredibly quick. Peter stayed close to Tony, as much because he was bound up as because he was the least awkward one of the Avengers for him to be around. The elder hero's imposing presence at his shoulder calmed him, even if he was the one who had caused all this to begin with. At this point, he trusted Tony more than he trusted his own parents. He didn't know what that meant for his future, nor was it something he really wanted to examine, but it was true.

The Quinjet stopped.

It was deathly quiet for a moment. He could feel the weight of it, the intensity behind all the stares on him. Everyone knew what came next, and no one wanted to break this moment and force him into it.

Peter sat up. "I think it's time." He was careful to keep his voice light but strong. If he showed any fear or hesitation at this point…

Tony sighed heavily. "Yeah, it is. But, Peter…"

"I know, Mr. Stark." He couldn't look at him and keep up the facade he knew he needed to, so he didn't look at him. He studied the bonds on his hands instead. "I know. No one wants to, and no one is going to make me. But I need to."

"But you don't have to. You don't want to, and we don't want you to."

"But I need to," Peter repeated, quietly but firmly.

Tony looked away, clearly pained. Captain America sighed, and Peter couldn't look at him, either, as he spoke. "The kid has made his choice, Tony. We need to honor it."

"He's a kid. He shouldn't be allowed to make a choice like this."

"Well, there's no one objective or actually responsible for him to do it for him, and we both know he's thought this through more than any of us probably have, Tony. If you won't do it, I will."

Cap went to stand, but Tony was between them instantly. "I don't think so." He turned back to Peter with a sigh, still looking pained. He tilted Peter's chin up gently, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You're sure, kid?"

Peter had to swallow hard against the emotion rising in his chest, to make himself pretend that the sincerity and pain in the elder hero's eyes doesn't feel like it's burning him. "I'm sure, Mr. Stark."

"Fine." The faceplate snapped into place, and then Tony's hand touched his arm, giving him a light tug to get him on his feet and within arms reach. "Okay. Keep on the comms. I don't anticipate this going too sour, but be on alert anyway."

"We've got your back, Tony," Cap said simply. He looked over at Peter and gave him a tiny salute. "See you later, Peter."

Peter barely had time to nod, and then Tony's arms were around him and they were free-falling out the door of the Quinjet.

Wait, not free-falling, he reminded himself. He could feel the distinct hum of Tony's repulsors, keeping them from actually free-falling towards certain doom. They were flying.

The feeling might have been more exhilarating if it weren't for the dread coiled in his stomach.

All too soon, they touched down at the mouth of the ruined cave. The signs of the collapse that had severely injured most of the Avengers were still there - dust and rubble floating and scattered about as if it happened hours instead of days ago.

Tony set him on his feet, grabbing him by one of his bound arms and tugging him along. Peter followed him silently, knowing the harshness of the action was just for show. Even if it did hurt his still-tender wounds a little bit.

He still half-expected Tony to say something, anything, to try to convince him not to go through with it. But whether because they're already on the ground or because he was afraid of listening ears or because of something else entirely, it didn't come. Instead, all he got was a quiet warning and a tug on the arm. "Come on. Just keep your head down and whatever they say or do, don't say anything."

Peter just nodded and let himself be pulled along. He doesn't have anything to say, and there's no time for him to even if he had. They barely made it a few steps into the cave when at least a dozen Hydra agents materialized around them, surrounding them.

Tony stopped abruptly, pulling Peter to a stop with him. Peter glanced at him, but there was no way to tell what he was thinking with the faceplate on. "I brought the kid," he called, his voice sounding echoey and metallic from the suit. "Where is she?"

The kid . They were back to that. It made sense, of course - sounding too familiar with him was dangerous - but it still stung. And that was ridiculous, but it was still true.

Peter scanned the faces around them as best as he could, his stomach sinking with every unfamiliar face. It's no surprise, but the confirmation of exactly what he was afraid of made him glad he had only taken a few bites of his breakfast this morning.

His parents were nowhere to be seen. The only two people who might have been able to make a case for his life, if they even had enough power to do so, couldn't even be bothered to show up to the exchange.

The world dimmed for a second as he came to terms with the realization that he was right. He was going back to Hydra, and this time, he was almost certainly a dead man.

A strangled cry snapped him back to reality. Some of the agents parted, and a girl with long red hair was shoved forward between them. Wanda, he knew, from both what they've told him and the glimpse of the video Tony had showed him in his workshop. Oh, how long ago that seemed.

It seemed even longer based on the way she looked. If she'd looked bad in the video, that was nothing compared to the way she looked now. If the Hydra agents hadn't been prodding her forward like cattle, there was no way she would have been walking. She stumbled and limped heavily with every step, dried and new blood alike making the wounds all over her body indistinguishable. Her pretty red hair was streaked with blood, and what he could see of her face around the blindfold looked like she'd taken a fresh beating right before coming out. Peter had a feeling that the only reason she wasn't pale as a ghost was because of the redness from that happening not too long ago.

Tony's grip tightened on his arm as he swore lowly. Tension was clearly pooled in every muscle of his body, even through the suit. The Hydra agents shifted restlessly, as if they could sense it and were readying their weapons for the inevitable double cross.

"Mr. Stark," Peter pleaded quietly. Even he didn't know what he was pleading for, exactly, but he just couldn't help it. He could hear the muttering of the other Avengers talking in Tony's ear. What they were trying to say was lost on him this time, though. They must have been being careful, wary of Hydra possibly listening in.

There's a few minutes of tense silence as they all studied each other. Then Tony let out a little growl, shoving Peter forward so suddenly that he stumbled and fell to his knees a few feet away. "Here. Take him."

The agents facing them exchanged a few looks, and then one of them nodded. Another grabbed Wanda's arm, hauling the blindfolded woman forward into the center of the cave.

Cold metal nudged him in the back. "Get up, kid," Tony ordered.

Peter carefully got to his feet, walking toward the Hydra agent stalking toward him. Was the coldness all part of the facade? he wondered. Or had the kindness been the real facade, only for as long as they needed him to serve his purpose? He didn't know. But then, did it really matter anymore, anyway?

He was barely within arm's reach of the Hydra agent before the man reached out to grab him, his grip like steel and somehow so much colder than that of the suit. He shoved Wanda forward again, throwing her down at Tony's feet. "You have what you came for now," the man said, his accent thick and rough. "Now go."

Peter glanced back over his shoulder toward the elder hero. He hadn't moved from the exact same spot he'd stopped in when all the agents had appeared. As Peter watched, he knelt to carefully scoop up Wanda's broken form, then rose slowly. Peter could swear his eyes were on him the whole time, despite not being able to see them through the helmet.

"Fine," Tony said. "I suppose I will." He paused, and Peter was sure, again, that Tony was looking directly at him in that split second. "I'd say goodbye, but I'm sure we'll meet again, so… enjoy the freedom while it lasts."

Enjoy the freedom, Peter thought. Yeah right. If only.

The suit inclined its head toward him, then, without another word, lifted off the ground and blasted out of the cave, flying right over the Hydra agents surrounding them with Wanda cradled in his arms.

The agent holding him twisted his arm almost immediately. Peter grunted in pain, but doesn't resist, letting himself be forced to his knees again.

It's only fitting, he thought, that his last glimpse of the outside world was a sliver of sun and a shadow of his hero flying away from him. It was hard to be upset with that, all things considered.

He'd always known it would end this way, one way or another. Even if it wasn't Hydra, he'd known when he decided to put on the suit that he would likely die at the hands of some unnamed villain. He'd just hoped it would be while doing something good, not being torn apart as an unwilling test subject.

Oh well. He should have known he never really would be able to escape Hydra. This was what he got for that foolish hope.

Still, he watched the suit fly until the dot was so small and far away that even his enhanced eyesight couldn't track it, and he could have sworn he heard the low hum of the Quinjet's engine fade away.

Or maybe it was just the sound of the real world dying in his ears as the Hydra agent stabbed him in the neck and he succumbed to the blackness eating at the edges of his vision. The last thing he sees is the fading light in the mouth of the cave, and then he knows no more.

_End of Part 1._


	14. Chapter 14

_Part 2_

In between the extended periods of darkness, there was only pain.

It was odd, honestly. He had a hard time understanding what was going on, between the pain and the dehydration and the fact that everything was just generally hazy. How long had he been here? He had no idea, now. He had no basis of where to even start counting hours, what with him having been knocked out immediately upon Tony leaving, and the extended amounts of time he was unconscious for all the time now.

And yet, what they were doing to him seemed… different. The first time was painful as hell, yes, but… it made sense. He'd been injected with things, subjected to crazy tests to figure out if their experiments had worked, but there was a purpose to all of it.

This time, the pain just seemed… senseless. It was near constant, and they didn't seem to have any goal in mind. There was no reprieve, nor any pattern, unlike the last time. The only real thing he could count on was the pain, and whether that was real or not was hard to say sometimes.

But all he could do was lay there and take it.

Tony hadn't slept.

Letting Peter go had to be the worst decision he'd ever made. Worse than abducting him, worse than deciding to do that first poor attempt at raiding Hydra, worse than anything he could think of.

The kid's face haunted him constantly. He could sense the moment he'd realized that his parents weren't there - and for whatever reason, they weren't. Tony had noticed a split second after he did, and by that point, it was too late. They were surrounded, and the realization only seemed to make Peter more determined.

Leaving him was the hardest thing he'd done in... years.

The moment he'd realized Peter's parents were nowhere to be seen, he realized the kid was right. He was going straight back to Hydra. Whatever their motives were, Tony had no idea, but Peter hadn't seemed very convinced that he would get out, and… well, he'd been right up to this point. He didn't doubt the kid's abilities, but if he was sure he wasn't getting out, then Tony wasn't going to sit around and wait for him to try before doing something.

And so he hadn't slept. He went to work immediately upon returning to the tower, trusting Steve and the others to deal with Wanda.

He hadn't been able to figure out before — where Hydra was hiding, what their motives were — but now he had all the information he'd had to work with before plus some, the knowledge of all the places they weren't, and a suddenly much more personal motive.

He cared about both of them, so he couldn't fathom why it being Peter made this so much more… personal. He couldn't fathom, even still, why he cared about Peter so much, nor when it had happened. But somewhere along the way… it just _had_. There was no explanation for it. And yet, he found that he didn't mind it. It just felt natural. And the feeling was further intensified by the fact he was sure he wasn't the only one. The whole team seemed to have been touched by him in a way that they couldn't explain, even if they'd only met him once.

It helped, having the whole team back. Nat and Clint were back in the game, whether they were really recovered enough to be or not, and Wanda, whenever she recovered enough to tell them what she knew, had a gold mine of information, at least when it came to rescuing Peter. They wouldn't be taking down Hydra as a whole with what she knew, but they had a fair idea of the conditions Peter was facing, and even a little of what it looked like inside.

It took days to compile the intelligence they already had with what Wanda knew, and to give Nat and Clint a chance to do their own work. Over a week, counting the time they were able to put everything together and come up with a decent plan. He left Peter in that hellhole for over a _week_. The knowledge killed him, but there was little he could do. They could be hasty and try to attack immediately, sure, but even if they had all the right information and the right location, if they went about it the wrong way, he would slip right through their fingers the same way Wanda had the first time. And then that week and some change could turn into week_s _or a month or more and he just could not allow that, so he waited.

They waited and planned and worked better as a team than they probably ever had before on anything. They pulled out all the stops in preparation, and when it came time to make their move, they did. And this time they weren't going home without what they came for.

He saw them, once.

Well, not saw. Heard, was more like. But his dad was there, he was sure of it. Helping them, it seemed. His mom, less so — she'd come in to talk to him, for a brief time, and no one had been hurting him at the time, so… maybe she wasn't in on it? Maybe she was just there? Or maybe he'd just dreamed the whole thing and that was why. That was probably the more likely explanation, even if he didn't really want to accept it.

He still didn't know how long he'd been here. By now even his sleep schedule was so whack from the pain and constant darkness and the fact that he was in and out of consciousness all the time that any measure of it he had was long gone. It could have been a day or a month already and he wouldn't know.

To think he'd hoped that Tony would rescue him. It had been foolish, he knew. He should have seen the Avengers kindness for what it was, should have realized that whether he was Spider-Man or not, they really had no connection to him and no reason to care about him. Why would they waste their valuable resources coming to rescue him? He'd already been nothing but trouble, and they got what they came for, so why risk anyone else over _him_?

The simple answer was that they wouldn't. It made no sense. Still, he couldn't help hoping, in the beginning, and sometimes even through the haze of pain he was in, that someone — someone being multiple people, as time progressed, but if he was truthful, it was mainly Tony who dominated his hopes of rescue — would come for him eventually.

It didn't help that they Hydra agents seemed to think the same thing. He could hear them, sometimes, when they weren't experimenting with his senses for whatever form of torture was currently their favorite. Talking about what they would do and test to pass the time. What they thought would hurt him most, what they could accomplish before Tony came. What would hurt _Tony_ the most when he found him again.

It was maddening. Every bit of it. Not knowing what was real and what was dreams through the haze of pain, the pain itself, the missing chunks of time… he really thought he was going insane.

The worst pain was his chest. Whatever it was they were doing to him, he was deprived of every sense they could, and then it just… seared. Blazing, blindingly hot, sizzling, foul smelling, and _painful. _And they did it every day, presumably hoping it would eventually scar. Even when he could feel it starting to, they still kept at it.

It was usually that pain that made him black out for the longest time. Everything else, while it still hurt, was nothing in comparison. He dreaded it every day - or at least what he assumed was every day. If it wasn't… well, then he really had no idea.

He just didn't understand. None of it made sense. What were they doing to him? Why did they want him in the first place if not to continue experimenting on him? And if these Hydra agents were so sure Tony was coming for him... then where was he?

A crash woke him.

Then a shot, another, something that sounded like a devastating impact.

Peter groaned as he started to surface from that blackness that seemed to be constantly surrounding him these days. Whatever the hell this new turmoil was, it was loud and obnoxious and interrupting the closest thing to peace he'd had since he'd gotten here. He just wanted it to go _away_.

But it didn't go away. It only intensified as time went on. It was torture on his already strained senses, but there was nothing he could do but lay there and take it, and try to block as much of it out as possible.

"Peter?"

The boy flinched. God, it had been so long since he'd heard his own name. Hydra didn't really talk to him, and when they talked about him, it was more of a passing comment, usually referring to him as "it" or some other inconclusive name. But who would be calling his name now? The voice was too loud, and his senses too painfully strained for him to be able to identify it.

"Hey, kid, come on. Can you hear me?" A pause, and then hands brushed his wrist, his throat, and he heard the sound of breath catching. "Stark, I found him, but it's not- it's not good. I'm going to get him back to the Quinjet. You guys finish up here as soon as possible."

If there was a reply, it was indistinguishable from the rest of the background noise to Peter's ears. Hands were on him again, tugging and pulling at whatever was holding him in place, and then he was being moved and _oh god _was it _painful_-

"Sorry, sorry, you're okay, kid, you're alright," the voice was murmuring, and then he was being jostled again and something shifted in just the right way and the world was suddenly black again.

He went in and out of the blackness a few times. Each time he woke up, the situation was more and more bizarre and his mind less and less able to grasp it.

The first time there was still moving and noise and chaos and he still couldn't see.

The second time, he'd been laid down on something, and the majority of the noise had faded into the background, though there were still voices shouting and the distant sound of battle in the background.

The third time, the background was quieter, though there was a distinct humming that never seemed to go away, but the voices were closer, and there were just so many of them, all different and all leaving an impression of familiarity but he was too out of it to have any idea why.

"He's in bad shape-"

"I should never have let him do this-"

"This isn't just your fault, Tony-"

"They've made it quite clear whose fault it is, they had from the beginning-"

"Fighting isn't going to help-"

"What are we going to do-"

"His parents-"

"This was a major win, we should be happy-"

"But the kid-"

"Look what they did to him, look at his _chest_-"

He was out again.

By the fourth time, things had settled down a lot. He was on a bed, he thought, and it was a lot comfier than anything else he'd touched in a long time, and it was completely quiet, no background noise or voices or anything to be heard but the soft thumping of his and one other person's breaths and heartbeats. He was coherent enough — or perhaps just paranoid enough — to realize the second set had to be from someone else, and that person had to be waiting on him to wake up, but he didn't know where he was or what that meant or if he should be terrified by the knowledge or not. It was clear that, at least temporarily, he was away from Hydra; but at what cost? Were his "rescuers" really rescuers at all? Or another evil for him to worry about when he really woke up?

Well, right now he didn't have the strength or mental capacity to worry about it. As soon as the fleeting notion to panic hit him, it seemed to exhaust him completely before it could even fully grip his body, and then he was sinking fully back into the blackness for the last time.


	15. Chapter 15

When he finally emerged from the blackness for the last time, it was a slow process.

Things funneled back in one by one.

First, he simply became aware; that he was awake, that he was thinking, that something was happening around him and something else _had _happened but his thoughts were coming too slowly and he didn't have enough memory or information to figure out what.

His hearing came next. Suddenly he realized he could hear the low hum of machines in the background, a quiet, intermittent beeping, and the grounding rhythm of someone else's steady heartbeat and breath from somewhere not too far off. And the best part was, it didn't hurt. His senses weren't stressed out to the max again. The sounds didn't automatically feel like something stabbing into his eardrums, weren't piercing despite being at a lower than normal volume, as they had been for what seemed like ever after going into the cave.

The quiet helped lull his already muted senses into a sense of security, enough that he was curious what had happened and actually _wanted _to wake up. So he concentrated, and slowly, but surely, managed to crack one eye open, then the other.

After not being able to see much of anything besides darkness whether he was awake or asleep for almost as long as he'd been gone, even the muted light in the room, soft, more dark than light but just bright enough to actually be able to see, his eyes still felt strained. But he blinked a few times to counter it and forced himself to keep them open, trying to sit up to scan the room.

That was when the problems came.

The moment he tried to lift his chest and get his arms under himself to sit up in the bed, pained flared all down the front of his body, muted from the drugs he was surely on, but not muted enough to not drag a startled cry from his mouth before he could stop it.

Instantly, the steady breathing cut off, and someone was at his side.

"Hey, hey, stay down. You're still healing and they messed you up pretty good, okay?" A pause, and he could feel the hovering of a hand just above his shoulder, ready to push him down should he have tried to sit up again, but he had no intention of that. Then, "Hey, kiddo, can you look at me? Or do you need the lights turned down more?"

He hadn't even realized he'd cinched his eyes closed again immediately upon realizing how much pain he was in. It was a defense mechanism, he supposed. But no, he needed to open them, needed to get a better view of where he was and who he was with. Because it sounded suspiciously like someone he'd already left behind, but… no, that couldn't be, right? Because they didn't care about him, _couldn't _care about him-

But despite the impossibility of it, when he opened his eyes, it was Tony Stark standing above him, watching him with concerned eyes.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Peter dropped his eyes, clearing his throat a little. It was scratchy, and it had been forever since he really had been allowed to, but he knew he _could _talk, if only because he'd just cried out without meaning to, and he had to have a voice to do that.

"No, I'm-" His voice cracked, and he stopped and then tried again. "I'm okay. It's fine, thank you."

"You're far from okay, Pete, but I'll leave the lights, if you insist," Tony countered, but his voice held no bite. He hovered over the edge of the bed for a moment, then asked, "Do you mind if I sit?"

Peter shook his head. "I assume it's your tower, so I couldn't stop you if I wanted to."

Tony sighed, but settled carefully on the edge of the bed before responding. "It's as much my tower now as it is yours, Peter. And I'm not forcing you to do anything. If you want me to leave, just say the word."

Peter frowned. His brain was still fuzzy and muted from wherever drugs he's on, and the words just didn't seem to compute. "What do you mean? How is it my tower? And didn't you rescue me for a reason?"

Tony stared at him, a look of mild horror and not-so-mild worry taking over his face. "Peter, I rescued you — _we _rescued you because you needed our help. Because we put you in that position and you didn't deserve to be there. No one deserves to be there. I didn't… this isn't me abducting you again or something, okay? When you're able, if you really wish to, then you're free to go wherever you want. You don't have to stay here, but…" He stopped, looking hesitant.

"But you want me to stay." _You're going to make me stay, _is what he was really thinking, and the words seemed apparent even though they were left unspoken, if Tony's expression was anything to go by.

Tony rubbed his temples. "No, I-... I mean, yes, I would like if you would stay, and so would the rest of the Avengers, very much. I told you, kid, you have a place here, and I meant it. But it's more… I don't know where else you would go."

Peter's brows furrowed. Again, he felt fuzzy, like he had all the pieces to some crucial puzzle but it's just too far away and out of focus for him to recognize what he'd seen. "I don't understand."

Tony sighed, placing a hand over one of Peter's, the motion unexpectedly light, almost careful. "With the information we managed to gather from you and Wanda, and Shield's resources, we were able to locate where Hydra was holding you and take out the lot of the ones in that… body of Hydra. We took out or arrested a lot of people, Peter. Including your parents." His voice lowered a few notches, as if he thought saying it too loudly would evoke some sort of negative reaction from him.

It probably should have, honestly. But if he were being truthful, the revelation was more crushing than surprising. He'd seen them in the first video Tony had showed him, so of course he knew that they were involved, that they knew the things they were doing at least to Wanda; but he had never imagined that they actually knew what they were doing to _him _, that they'd been around and helped or even just let them do it.

Maybe his dreams of being visited by them when he was there weren't just dreams. Could they have been real? Could they really have been okay with Hydra hurting him like that? Experimenting on him?

Had they known the first time, too? Had they known about his powers? Had _everything _up to this point in his life been a lie?

His growing panic must have been obvious, because Tony squeezed his hand, quickly trying to reassure him but mistaking the reason. "Hey, easy, kiddo. They're alive, alright? I made sure they were. But they're going away for a long time."

Peter locked eyes with Tony, chest heaving as he struggled to control the rising emotion in his chest, which burned something horrible, although from the panic attack or from whatever the hell they'd done to him, he didn't know. "They knew-"

"We don't know that-"

" _I _know that! I was there! _They _were there! They let them…" He stopped, breaths coming way too fast, and God, was it painful, even with the drugs he knew he was on. It radiated from his chest all the way down his body and the harder his heart pounded the more his head throbbed and-

"Peter. Kid, you gotta focus up. Look at me." Tony tilted his chin up, cupping his face and making him meet his eyes. "Breathe. I _know _how this feels. I do. But you need to calm down right now before you seriously hurt yourself. These injuries you have? You'll be feeling the full extent of them again if you get too worked up."

He knew Tony was right, but it was hard, having his world crash down around him again and trying _not _to have a panic attack. He knew he was only hurting himself right now, and that, yeah, if anyone understood how badly this hurt him, being betrayed by people who he had thought were his family, it would be Tony. But it was just so _much. _Too much for his currently fragile state.

What had his parents known? Why would they do this to him? And what was going to happen to them now? They were going to jail, probably, and likely the high-security kind. They were working for a group of known terrorists, after all. It could be years before he would be able to see them again, if ever. And he honestly didn't know how he felt about that at this point.

But even more pressing than that, what was going to happen to him? Sure, Tony had said he could stay here, at the tower, but… there was no way that would work, long term, right? He was a minor. His parents were in jail. The state would come for him; and likely even if they didn't, Shield would, since there was no way they didn't know who he was by now. And superhero or not, he couldn't just be left to live alone without a guardian. If someone didn't come for Spider-Man, someone would come looking for Peter Parker. Even if this whole thing was kept tightly enough under wraps, he'd been missing from school at the very least for… ages, now. Someone will have noticed.

All of these thoughts bombarded him at once, and he barely noticed that he'd started shaking, the way the pain had started to rise and crack his barely put together facade, and it was only when Tony gently cupped his face and sighed, apparently realizing that there was no calming him down, "It's alright, kiddo, you can let it out," does he suddenly and violently break down, throwing himself into the elder man's arms despite how that made the pain radiate through every muscle in his body, and started to sob.

He cried for everything that had happened up to this point — the kidnappings, the torture, the want and fear and loss and pain he just kept feeling but kept forcing himself to push down, even clear back to the first time Hydra had kidnapped him, because allowing himself to feel that would be to admit that he wasn't okay or that something was wrong, and he had been desperately afraid to do that before. But now there was nothing left to lose, no more secrets to hide, and nothing to hold him back.

Tony just held him silently the whole time, rubbing his back in soothing circles and mostly just letting the teenager freak out and soak his shirt until his sobs finally started to subside. When he finally cried it all out, he just stayed there, tucked into Tony's arms, face hidden in his now-wet chest. He knew he should move, that Tony probably was bored and irritated and hadn't signed up for this amount of responsibility when he rescued him, but he was just too exhausted to move.

It was Tony who finally moved, but he didn't push him away like Peter expected. He carefully turned himself so that he was beside the exhausted boy, settling Peter in beside him a bit more comfortably for them both and tucking the blankets up around him. Peter didn't resist, too tired to even open his eyes.

"Get some rest, kiddo," Tony murmured, and Peter felt gently fingers stroke through his curls, massaging right over where the headache from crying had begun to form. His body pulsed with aches and pains, but his exhaustion was so deep that even that had no chance of keeping him awake.

Still, he managed to hold on to one last thought, and he murmured, "Mr. Stark?"

He felt him sigh. "Yeah?"

"How can I stay at the tower if the state people are going to take me away?"

There's a brief pause, and he felt as much as heard Tony take a deep breath, considering his answer. "No one is going to take you anywhere you don't want to go ever again, Peter. That's all there is to it."

"But my parents…" He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. "They're gone and you're not…"

"Don't worry about that. Don't worry about anything, okay? Just get some rest. We'll take care of it when you wake up."

And Peter went to sleep, unable to resist the blanket of exhaustion that seems to have settled in his very bones any longer. But this time it was deep and peaceful, not induced by drugs and trauma, and the most restful sleep he'd had since this all began months ago. And though he didn't know it yet, this time he had a whole team of superheroes on his side determined to make it last.


	16. Chapter 16

**Heyo! Contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead, and these are not abandoned. I still love you all 3000 and hopefully, with summer basically here (at least when it comes to the school way) and all of our quarantine free time, I'll be able to get back to our regularly scheduled programming — uploading Tuesday and Thursday, and on occasional Saturdays, if I have my shit together enough. I hope this is a good chapter for everyone to start back on, and that I can bring you all a little joy (or maybe just entertainment, since I tend to write angst and drama...) in these crazy times. Let me know if there's a specific story you'd like to see updated soonest, and much love to everyone 3**

When he woke up again, things seemed… clearer.

He could see better, even in the dim lighting, which he was still grateful for. His senses were improving, but slowly, as Hydra had strained them to their limit and beyond when he was there. His head felt clearer, and the pain in his body had once again faded to a dull ache. He generally felt more aware. Clearer. Better, but not completely.

He was also warm for what seemed like the first time in forever, and he had a feeling that had a lot to do with whatever the heat source that had been provided for him was, which he was still cuddled up to quite comfortably. It was comforting, enticing, and it made him want to close his eyes and go back to sleep again. Maybe Mr. Stark had given him something-

Mr. Stark!

He opened his eyes again and realized the heat source he was cuddled up to was none other than the still form of the aforementioned billionaire, who was still holding him close to his side, one arm draped over him to keep him close. Suddenly what happened last time he was awake — however long ago that actually was — hit him all at once. Waking up here. Talking to Tony. Crying himself to sleep in the elder hero's arms.

Wow. Can't really embarrass himself more than that, right?

Still, he had to admit he was glad to see that Mr. Stark was still there when he woke up. The last thing he wanted was to be alone, if he was being honest. And he trusted him more than he trusted any of the other Avengers, despite not really having a reason to distrust any of them.

His shifting must have been enough to rouse the elder hero, who let out a quiet groan as his eyes fluttered open and settled on him, bleary but focused. The arm around him tightened immediately. "Easy, kiddo, just settle down," Tony soothed, his voice soft and tired sounding, leaving Peter with the impression that he'd already said this a lot. Perhaps he'd been squirming more than he'd realized when he was asleep.

""M settled," Peter countered, rubbing his eyes as he started to sit up. At least as settled as he was going to get. "What time is it?"

Tony looked surprised to see him actually awake this time, but he said nothing, glancing at his watch. "Later," he finally answered. "How are you feeling?"

Peter hesitated. In truth, he wasn't sure. He still wasn't sure how to be feeling about any of this. He honestly just felt hollow inside right now, and he didn't expect that to change any time soon. "Better," he said simply. It wasn't a lie. He certainly felt better than he had before, physically and otherwise, but that didn't mean he was in a good place or would be anytime soon.

If Tony guessed the reason for his vagueness, he didn't call him out on it. His eyes narrowed, but he just said, "Good," those eyes dark and calculating as he studied him. "Awake and well enough to eat, this time, maybe?"

The thought of food had his stomach in knots, but he could feel how hollow it was, too. It wasn't good for him to go so long without eating, he knew. So he nodded, despite not really wanting to. "Yeah. That would be good."

Tony nodded and sat up, careful not to hurt him as he pulled away. "Alright. I'll go see what I can do about that. And maybe a fresh change of clothes. I don't know if you can shower yet, but we can at least do that much."

Peter just nodded again. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."

Tony stood up, dusting himself off and flashing Peter a reassuring smile. "No need to constantly thank me. I want you to have whatever you need. And I want you to feel at home here. At least as much as you can, all things considered."

The reference to the insanity of the whole situation, however vague, was enough to bring back the pressing thoughts from their discussion earlier. Tony had already turned toward the door, but he stopped when Peter spoke again, blurting out before he could think better of it, "About that, actually…"

Tony stopped dead in place, and Peter could see the slight lift of his shoulders as he took a deep breath as if to steel himself before turning back around. "You really want to talk about this now?" he asked. He didn't sound exasperated or upset, just… tired, and maybe a little wary.

Peter was feeling about the same way himself, but it was a discussion that needed to be had. It seemed like Tony wanted him to stay, but even he didn't know if that was possible. He didn't know what it was like to be in the system, or to get out of it, but he was sure that it wouldn't be as simple as them just seeing that Mr. Stark wanted him here and leaving him alone. And that was assuming the government even knew about him and his parents' arrest, and they didn't have to fight whoever else to not bring him in for experimentation or whatever they may have had in store again.

He took a breath. "Yeah, I… I do."

Tony stopped and nodded slowly. "Alright… what do you want to know, then?"

Peter hesitated. He wanted to know, really… but with the opportunity to ask any questions he wanted to ask out in the open, the uncertainty he'd been holding back came creeping back up.

Tony must have seen it in his face, and he took pity on him. "Let me go get us some food at least, yeah? Think on it while I'm gone."

Peter nodded, looking down as Tony left the room. He knew a lot of what he wanted to ask, truthfully, but he didn't want to offend Tony - especially if Tony really was willing to take him in. What if he gave him the wrong impression and he blew it? He could end up on the streets - or probably worse for him, in the system.

He spent most of the time Tony was gone chewing over how best to ask most of what he knew he wanted to ask. Not that he was much closer to an answer by the time Tony returned.

Thoughts of questions were momentarily pushed out of his mind when Tony came back in, booted instantly by the smell of food. Up until now he hadn't realized just how hungry he was, because he hadn't had or smelled food in so long that the gnawing at the pit of his stomach was hardly acknowledged by him anymore.

Tony must have been able to see it in his face, because he didn't say anything when he entered, wordless kicking the door closed behind him and setting the tray down in front of Peter.

Peter had inhaled half of his food before he remembered the conversation that they were supposed to be having right now. He stopped suddenly, looking up and making eye contact with Tony, who had barely touched his food, watching Peter with an expression he wasn't sure he wanted to decipher.

The bite in his mouth suddenly seemed to turn to lead, but he forced himself to swallow anyway. "Uh… thanks," he blurted, suddenly remembering his manners.

Tony offered him a rueful half smile. "It's nothing, kid. Can you even tell me the last time you ate?" His expression must have been as blank as what his mind was coming up with, because Tony didn't bother to wait for him to answer. "That's what I thought." He paused, hesitating a little before asking, "Now that you've got something in your stomach… do you still want to talk?"

Peter took a small sip of his water, considering the question. Did he? Maybe, maybe not, but either way, he needed to. "Yeah," he finally sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I'm just… really confused. _Why_ did you come back after me? And… what happened? How did I end up here? I get that my parents are gone, but… you had help from SHIELD, right? They're not going to fight you for me, are they?" It sounded stupid, saying it outloud, but it's too possible for him not to ask.

Tony leaned forward a little. "Kid, I told you. We came after you because it was our fault — _my _fault, especially, that you were there. Hydra would have left you alone if it wasn't for me bringing you back into it. And, personal investment aside, we've been trying to cut off that head of Hydra for months now. Down a few Avengers or not, we had to take the opportunity while it was still there. And given too long, they'd likely have run — and taken you with them."

Peter bit his lip. It did make sense, of course. They had to take out that group if they had the chance. They had the chance, so they did. Less to do with him, and more to do with their mission. Except… "That still doesn't explain how you kept me away from SHIELD," he said. "And… how long was I there for?" It had felt like forever, but if it had been, really, Tony was right. Hydra would have packed up and left by then.

Tony hesitated. "You were there for about a week," he said. "And what SHIELD doesn't know won't hurt them. In this case, at least."

"You're _hiding_ me from _SHIELD_?" He wasn't sure if he shouldn't be surprised, terrified, or something else entirely.

"No! Of course not. They didn't know you were there, so it's not hiding you," Tony countered quickly.

"And that makes it _better_? When they find out-"

"_If _they find out, we will deal with it. But right now what was best for you was to be somewhere you could relax and recover in peace, not to wake up in a SHIELD facility with Fury and Hill all up in your business as soon as you came to. Trust me." Tony tried to placate him.

"Trust you," Peter repeated. He shook his head. "Is that what this is really about? You being the hero so you can feel like you made amends about using me in the first place?"

Tony frowned. "No, of course not-"

"Yes, it is. I told you, Mr. Stark, I'm over it. It's done and over and I really just want to forget about it. How am I supposed to move on if I'm trapped in a tower hiding from another group of agents who might or might not want to experiment on me, too? Or God knows what else they might do to me if they find out-"

"SHIELD is the good guys, kid," Tony interrupted, voice soft but firm.

"Yet you don't seem too convinced of that. So why should I believe it?"

Tony didn't answer immediately. He took a breath, watching him for a moment while Peter stared, blankly, at the wall, as if it held all the answers, or at least the space for his jumbled mind to sort them out. He almost immediately felt bad for snapping, but… well, he's allowed to be a little emotionally volatile right now.

Finally, Tony spoke again. "You're right, Pete. Helping you does make me feel better, I won't say it doesn't, but I don't intend to stop anytime soon. And no, I can't hide you from SHIELD forever, and there's no point in saving you if you can't live, either. I'll talk to Fury after you're healed, all right? Worry about that, first."

"And I'm still going to be here that long?" Peter looked back at him, suddenly worried that he'd messed everything up by yelling at Tony. He really shouldn't be so argumentative, but he just couldn't help himself. And it felt good to snap a little, get some of his frustration out, even if Tony wasn't the most deserving of being on the other end of it.

Tony didn't seem to mind, though. "Of course you are. I told you, if you want to be here, then here you'll stay. I realize you might not want to see us everyday, and of course the whole Avenger thing can wait… but going into the system would be really bad for you, Peter. Surely you know that."

Of course he did, but he didn't want to admit it. "But isn't there legal hoops and all that?" he asked softly.

Tony waved a hand. "I'll hire or pay whoever I need to to make it happen. Pepper already has some lawyers working on it, I think."

"And it's not going to cause you a bunch of trouble? If word gets out…"

"We'll work on a cover story. Later. But the media is hardly my biggest worry. It wouldn't be the first time they've reported about me having an illicit child." He shrugged, then looked back at Peter, tilting his head a little. "But we'll try to keep it quiet, if you'd prefer."

Peter gnaws on his bottom lip. "I guess we'll see what happens, but… the quieter the better, especially if I'm going to be able to go back to school and all that… am I?"

Tony nodded. "We'll work on it," he promised. "But it's not going to be soon. Your injuries are… extensive, Pete."

"Yeah, I've noticed." As if on cue, he felt a tinge of pain run down his spine, and he groaned a little.

Tony winced sympathetically. "Your pain meds are probably wearing off. I'll get our doc back in here to give you more." He started to stand.

"Hey, Mr. Stark?" Peter tried to sit up a little, but he stopped when his arms started shaking before he could even put much weight on them and his chest twinged uncomfortably.

Tony turned back. "Yeah, kid?"

Peter looked down. "I just, uh… are those meds going to make me tired? 'Cause I'd really like to get cleaned up before I sleep for another day, if you don't mind…"

Something unreadable passed over Tony's face, but it was gone before Peter could try to decipher it. "Of course. It might be uncomfortable if the pain meds start to wear off, though." He turned completely and grabbed a wheelchair from the corner of the room, unfolding it and wheeling it over to him. "Here. Let me wheel you into the bathroom, and I'll go run and get you some fresh clothes and alert Dr. Cho so she can have your meds ready for when you're done. You May not be able to get a real bath, but we can sponge bathe you, or something. Not the best, but better than nothing."

Peter just nodded gratefully, watching Tony clear the food trays away and carefully peel the blankets off of him. He knew enough now to realize he isn't getting up without help, so he didn't bother trying, just waited until Tony was ready and then put his arms up, helping the elder man hook him under the arms and legs and carefully, with as minimal jostling as possible, set him in the wheelchair.

Despite the care with which he did it, it still hurt. The pain was immediate and intense, radiating, even with the pain meds, all throughout his body. His chest was the epicenter, by far the worst of it, though he couldn't fathom why.

He was breathless when Tony set him down, the pain making it impossible to draw in a breath. "Did they break my ribs or something?" he wheezed, looking up at Tony.

The elder hero looked down at him sadly. "Some," he admitted.

Peter managed to straighten after a few moments, gripping the armrests for support. "Christ. Okay. I'm good."

Tony didn't look convinced, but he took the handles on the wheelchair anyway, pushing him into the bathroom and putting on the brakes. "Alright. Don't try to do anything by yourself, alright? I'll be right back, and we'll get you fixed up."

Peter nodded, settling back in the chair. "Okay. Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"You've gotta call me Tony, kid, honestly." He sighed and stepped away. "But you're welcome." He clasped Peter's shoulder, but lightly, mindful of his injuries, and then headed out.

Peter relaxes back in the chair as the door closed behind him. He felt better after their talk, admittedly, even if he still didn't know much about the specifics of the whole situation. He didn't have much choice but to trust Tony, now. It wasn't as if he had a better option.

And this wasn't the worst place to be for him, anyway. He'd be well taken care of, and he didn't have to keep his identity — either of them, really — a secret from Mr. Stark. For him, it didn't get much more uncomplicated than that.

He sighed a little, turning to look at himself in the mirror. His curls were greasy and matted, and he looked downright gaunt — the amount of weight his super-metabolism had caused him to lose from going over a week without eating made him look like little more than skin stretched over bones, though it was hard to see so on most of his body, with all the bandages covering him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just boxers and a multitude of bandages. So much so, he realized, that he looked like he may as well have been wearing a shirt. His chest was swaddled with bandages from around one shoulder clear down to his stomach.

He frowned. He knew he'd been put through the wringer, but that was a lot of bandages for just some broken ribs.

He carefully lifted a hand to test the bandages. Under a little bit of his super strength, they basically crumbled in his hands, and he had nearly full use of one of his arms, so he used it to start unwrapping the bandages. They'd have to come off anyway for him to bathe, right?

It was a good thought, until the bandages actually started to reveal what was underneath.

Right in the center of his chest, branded into the skin so deep it almost looked like he could fit the tip of his nail in the mark, was a perfectly burned replica of the arc reactor.


	17. Chapter 17

For a moment, he was sure he was going to pass out.

A voice behind him pulled him from the thoughts. Tony's voice, barely above a horrified whisper. "Oh, _Jesus_, Pete- why didn't you wait…?"

He couldn't bring himself to even turn to look at him. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. "You knew?"

Tony walked up behind them, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. "Remember the clip of the video I showed you?"

It took a minute for him to actually recall. "The… one with my parents? About Wanda?" He didn't really see why that was relevant.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Well… they made more of those. That's part of how we were able to find you."

Again, it took a moment for the full impact of those words to register. When it did, he whipped his head around to look at him, eyes wide. "More videos? Of… of me?" He could hardly wrap his mind around the idea. Why would they take videos of him? And send them back to the Avengers, of all people? Well, come to think of it, there wasn't really anyone else to send them to… but even still, it didn't make sense. They shouldn't care. They were the ones who had handed him over. And on the off chance they did, anyway, why taunt them? Surely they didn't _want _to give him back… right? Then the whole trade would have been pointless. Why would they waste their time like that?

Tony squeezed his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts again. "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense."

"I don't understand why," Peter sighed. And even after talking to Tony, earlier, that was how he couldn't help but feel. He just didn't understand _why _any of it. And it was more than just Tony's seeming want to take him in; although he admittedly could understand that a bit more, now, knowing that Tony had been sent videos of him being put through hell. He supposed that was enough to make anyone feel guilty and a bit protective. But the rest of the decisions happening around him right now… he just could hardly fathom where any of them were coming from. So many _whys _\- of Hydra, of Tony, of all the other Avengers, of his parents, of his powers…

"Me, either," Tony admitted. "But I suppose trying to make sense of psychopaths actions should only lead to confusion. Now, come on, kiddo. Let's stop giving them the satisfaction of staring at their work and get you in the tub and feeling better, yeah?"

"Yeah… I suppose," Peter agreed. He leaned back in the seat and let Tony wheel him over to the bath, watching as the elder man started his water and checked the temperature, with all the care - if not as much finesse - as a doting parent. He wasn't really sure how to feel about the whole scenario, here, but he knew he couldn't bathe by himself, and that trying would certainly be a disaster. And while his pride didn't exactly like the idea of Iron Man helping him strip down and take a bath, he knew there wasn't a better option. He couldn't do it by himself, and Tony was definitely the person here he was most comfortable with. Who else could he ask to do it? Captain America? One of the other Avengers? No thanks.

By the time they were done, Peter was thoroughly embarrassed, but still eternally grateful to Tony for helping him. He felt much nicer, cleaner, although the pain was definitely growing the longer he sat there. The exhaustion also hit him again as soon as he was clean and relaxed enough to quit fighting it off, and suddenly he could barely keep his eyes open again.

Tony noticed. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get you back in bed, huh?"

Peter just nodded, letting Tony take most of his weight and help him back into the wheelchair. The pain and exhaustion made it hard for him to focus, and it felt like he blinked a few times and suddenly he was dry and clothed and being wheeled back to the bed.

Getting back _into _bed wasn't quite so smooth or painless. If lifting him out was uncomfortable, picking him back up and in was flat-out painful. It's much easier going down than up, after all, and Peter had been able to help a little more last time. But now the pain and fatigue wasn't going to allow for any such thing.

"Maybe I should have called one of the others to help," Tony allowed, sometime after, when he's plopped him in the bed much too hard and they're both still breathing heavier than either of them would like to admit from the attempt.

"Maybe," Peter agreed. His voice was barely a whisper, forced out through the pain and exhaustion. His eyes fell closed almost as soon as he hit the bed.

He felt more than saw as Tony tucked the blankets in around him and smoothed the hair back onto his forehead and out of his eyes. "Yeah, sorry, kid. Just swallow this for me and I'll let you get right to sleep. Helen specially made these to work with your freaky spider powers. You need a drink?"

Peter cracked an eye open just long enough to grab the pill and pop it into his mouth, swallowing it dry. "No thanks. I'm good…"

"Alright. Get some rest, kiddo."

"Mhm... " He was already falling asleep.

Even with his enhanced metabolism, it took days for Peter to recover enough to function on his own.

Hydra was the ones who had given him his abilities, and they certainly knew how to use them against him. A few scans showed that the reason that his chest was refusing to heal - and that it had hurt so bad in the first place - was because they had literally melted several thin pieces of metal into it, instead of just burning him with a normal branding iron. It also explained why he was still having trouble breathing, despite his lungs and ribs healing up fine.

So he was still having trouble breathing, and even if they found a safe and feasible way to remove the metal, he would likely still have the scars, and possibly the tightness in his chest, too. Seeing as it wasn't being life threatening in and of itself, they had decided to leave it, for now, to give his body time to heal and readjust and rest before attempting something so potentially risky.

But by the end of the week, his progress in healing was coming along nicely. He had gained enough strength and weight back to be able to stand on his own, and while he wasn't walking anywhere far, he could make it from his new room in the compound to the kitchen or the lounge area, and pretty well around the common floor, if one of the others would help him.

Not that he was short on help, really. The other Avengers, including a still-recovering Wanda, were all hanging around, for the most part, and they were all just as friendly as he remembered them being from their brief meetings. They were all more than willing to help, whether it was getting around, getting dressed, eating, bathing, or whatever else he needed at that particular time (although some things were certainly more embarrassing than others).

His progress was so extensive that he'd been moved out of the Medbay and - to his surprise and confusion - into the penthouse, with Tony and Pepper.

When he'd asked the elder man about it, he said it was because the common floor was for the Avengers, and while they both could and did hang out there most of the day, he didn't want to make him feel like he was putting pressure on him to join the Avengers, officially. But in truth, it was more because Peter still needed borderline constant company and supervision, and Tony… well, he was fine with letting other people help him with the little things, to a certain extent, but…

Protective or possessive, call it what you'd like, but the truth was, he felt the need to be the one to take care of the kid. He wanted to. And while he appreciated the help with the day to day and didn't want Peter to feel entirely dependent on or controlled by him, he still wanted to be the one to do most of it for him.

Peter couldn't say he minded as much as he probably should. He was living with and being taken care of by his heroes, after , to an extent, he missed his parents, his friends, his school, his old life, as weird and abnormal as it still was. His parents being gone didn't quite feel real to him, he had to admit. He missed them, yes, but the problem was that he rarely saw them anyway. They tended to go away on business a lot, or work crazy hours, being scientists and all. His aunt and uncle used to watch him, when that happened, but after his uncle had died recently… well, his aunt wasn't in the position to, really, and he was a teenager, well old enough to take care of himself. And responsible enough, as he'd quickly proven. So he'd been staying on his own for almost a year now, for most of the time. School and his friends were the more tangible losses. He was still able to talk to Ned on the phone, of course. It wasn't the same, but it was better than nothing. He was still miles from getting to go back to school, that was for sure.

One of the biggest barriers to that right now was the custody thing. With both his parents in jail, he was officially a ward of the state, though Tony had already filed for that to change. For some reason, though, it hadn't gone through yet.

They were about to find out why.

The Avengers common area was almost always pure chaos. But the day was just starting, and most of the heroes - Peter included - had just opened their eyes not that long ago and were lacking enough caffeine to be awake enough to cause trouble. Some of them weren't even awake at all,yet.

Tony, Peter, Steve, and Nat were all clustered around the kitchen island and picking at their various breakfasts, most of them distracted by something or the other but still making idle chit chat as they sat around together. They were all early risers, while the others were not as much, and were in varying states of still in bed to training to busy getting ready for the day in some other way that meant that they hadn't made it to the table yet.

Suddenly, Friday came to life over the speakers. "Boss, there's a woman in the lobby demanding to see you," she intoned, startling most of the still half-asleep people at the table.

Tony blinked, then shrugged, not seeming too concerned. "What else is new? Send her away," he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I don't think you want to do that. She's very insistent. And all known factors considered, I think it would be a good idea for you to speak with her."

"And why is that?" Tony still sounded like he wasn't overly concerned, taking another drink of his coffee as he eyed the tablet in front of him.

"The individual in question is May Parker. I believe she is Peter's aunt."


	18. Chapter 18

"The individual in question is May Parker. I believe she is Peter's aunt."

Tony nearly spit his drink of coffee all over the table. "_What_?"

Peter's reaction was about the same. If he'd had a bite of food in his mouth, he probably would have choked on it. He just couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen nor heard from his aunt but maybe two or three times since his uncle had died, and both had been brief at best. How would she know what happened? Or even have the slightest clue where to find him?

Natasha looked down the table at him. "Did you talk to her, Peter?"

"No. We haven't talked in months except for a few pop ins, and not at all since this all happened. I don't- I don't understand." He wasn't entirely sure how to feel. He'd just started to get used to the idea of living here, and now… now he wasn't sure what to think.

"Well she found out somehow," Steve said simply. "So we should probably let her up, if for nothing else than to find out how."

Tony wiped his mouth and sighed. "Yeah, I suppose. Fri, let her up."

It only took a minute for the orders to be relayed, and another two for the elevator to make the ride up to their floor. But none of them were prepared for the whirlwind of pain and fury that was the May Parker that stepped off the elevator.

Tony stood up and headed to the elevator when he heard it ding, ready to play the ever gallant host. "Mrs. Parker, I-"

He didn't even get to finish. May marched right up to him, poking him in the chest with a heated look. "Where is my nephew, Mr. Stark?"

Tony froze, unable to contain his surprise. All he managed to say was, "Pardon?"

"_Pardon? _Is that really all you have to say for yourself?" May crossed her arms. In truth, she looked a mess. Peter knew her well enough to be able to see, even from a distance, that she was tired, probably having come off her normal double shift at the hospital, judging by the scrubs and the fact she appeared to be running off pure steam of her anger and what was probably copious amounts of coffee. Her hair was tied messily back in what had probably been a neat bun at the beginning of her shift but sixteen hours later was now just barely being held together. She clearly hadn't even stopped to change or fix herself up at all before coming here.

"Mrs. Parker, if you could just calm down, we could get you something to drink and maybe talk-" It was Steve who tried this time, but she didn't even tear her eyes off Tony.

"Oh, excuse me. Let me just _calm down_ so we can have a rational conversation, yeah? Like that shouldn't have been the first thing that happened here. Do you have any idea what this is like, Stark? First I get a phone call that my husband's brother and his wife have been arrested and I have to come down to the station, again, to be interviewed and give a statement. So I miss the beginning of my shift to go down and get borderline interrogated to find out if I had anything to do with this — because apparently they were arrested for treason and illegal genetic experimentation, among a whole list of charges — and when I finally get a chance to put a word in, I ask where my nephew is, and no one has an answer for me. They hadn't even looked for him at all.

"So then I have to file a missing person's report for him because no one has any clue where he is and I'm his last living relative, and they're supposed to call me if they hear anything. So I do my due diligence and call all his friends, most of which inform me that no, they haven't heard from him, and he hasn't been to school in over two weeks. All except for Ned, who admits to me that he's talked to him before realizing he's missing and then hangs up on me when I ask him if he knows anything else. So I'm just left to worry and wait, until all of a sudden they inform me that they've found out where he is and that I need to go in to the office to talk as soon as I get off work.

"That was last night. So I go in this morning as soon as I get off shift, and what do I discover? That my rights to guardianship as his last living relative and a qualified caretaker are being contested by none other than Tony Stark, who they have absolutely _no _explanation for how or why he would know or how he ended up here, but somehow know that he is, after your lawyers filed for guardianship of him a few days ago."

Dead silence. Even Peter was stunned. Not only because he hadn't even considered the impact all of this would have on May, selfish as that sounded, but because he'd never expected her to even try to go after his guardianship. She was working full time, and she'd just lost Ben not even a year ago, and he'd only seen her a couple of times since then. She had a lot on her plate, and she wasn't even actually related to him except by marriage — his father was Ben's brother. So why would she want to take him on, especially with everything else she already had to deal with?

May just looked at Tony, arms crossed defensively as she stared him down. "Look, I don't know how you got him or what it is you want from him. But whatever it is, I have no problem with taking you to court and proving you unfit, and no amount of money you throw out can overrule _that_, even if it does get you out of whatever charges I'm sure I could get you brought up on. And believe you me, I've got a whole list written up I could push if you really want to fight me — kidnapping, for starters. But I'll give you a chance and ask you again. _Where _is my nephew?"

"I'm right here, May." Peter had heard enough. He felt bad for both of them — May for everything she'd gone through, and Tony for having to be on the receiving end of her anger because of it, despite it being pretty valid on both sides. He'd never seen May so angry. He could only think of one time she'd come close, and Ben had been there to calm her down. And it had worked, he remembered Ben telling him, because she'd been more upset than truly angry, and was just using anger to cover the emotions she didn't want to show.

But Ben wasn't here now. And Peter was no expert.

Still, he limped his way out into the foyer, in plain view of them both. Tony turned to face him, still looking shell-shocked but not hesitating to grab his shoulder immediately to steady him as May lunged toward him and wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug. "Peter!"

Were it not for his super strength and his enhanced healing, he probably would have crumpled to the floor between the force with which she slammed into him and how tightly she embraced him. The pain wasn't as extreme as it would have been even a few days ago, but it still hurt. He winced as he hugged her back with his good arm. "Hey, May."

"Peter, Jesus." May released him after a long minute, taking him by the shoulders and looking him over. "I was so worried about you. What _happened_ to you?" When their eyes met, hers were suddenly glistening with tears, and the sight hit him like a punch in the gut.

"I…" Peter hesitated, looking at Tony. The words rang in his ears — _kidnapping, for starters_. "A lot, May. It's a really long story, but Mr. Stark helped me, alright? You don't have to press charges on him."

May nodded, looking down and wiping her eyes. "No, I just…" Now that she'd seen him and he was obviously safe, if not exactly in one piece, all the anger seemed to just melt out of her. She just looked sad and exhausted. "I know. I just was so _worried._"

"I understand," Tony told her, putting a hand carefully on her shoulder. "No hard feelings. _I'm _sorry that I put you through all that. Would you like to come sit down and have some coffee? We should certainly talk, though it doesn't have to be now if you're not feeling up to it."

May shook her head. "No, now is… now is good. And I'd love some coffee, if you don't mind."

"Of course." Tony looked at Peter. "Why don't we go upstairs and talk, yeah? It's almost time for your meds again anyway, and I think this is a conversation best had in privacy." He looked back at the Avengers at the table. "Go ahead and head up and get settled down. You're not supposed to be on your feet too long anyway. I'll be up in a minute."

Peter nodded. "Okay." He watched Tony head back into the kitchen and then looked at May. "Come on, May. I'll show you where I've been staying, and we'll get you some coffee… did you eat yet?" he asked as they headed to the elevator.

May rubbed her forehead. "No. I haven't eaten in…" She had to stop and think about it, consulting the watch on her wrist. "Hours," she finally finished. "Lunch break on my first shift."

"Well that's unhealthy. Mr. Stark isn't a fantastic cook, but he won't poison us, if you want something to eat."

"It sounds like I'm going to be here a while, so may as well…"


End file.
